Words of a Sermon No One Will Hear
by RivLee
Summary: HET, very AU, very OC. Elrohir centric fic from the Legend, Lore, and Lullabies stories, showing his perspective on four events from the story arc. Title from Eleanor Rigby. Complete.
1. Mother's Love

First part of the long overdue birthday fics for Jouri. What can I say other than I'm sorry, life sucks, and hey, at least it's not been four years::blushes::

Part one calls back to events in the earlier chapters of "Lullaby of Love." This first story set, called, "Words of a Sermon No One Will Hear" is Elrohir-centric, well, my version of Elrohir-centric and, at the end, will have its own soundtrack as it is full of music.

_**Words of a Sermon No One Will Hear**_

"Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no-one will hear,

No-one comes near

Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there,

What does he care?

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?

All the lonely people, where do they all belong?"

-The Beatles, "Eleanor Rigby"

* * *

Part One: Mother's Love

This is the dread

_**TA 289, Lothlorien **_

Elrohir found it fitting that of all the places he could attempt to find himself, his grandmother's realm of foresight and contemplation was not one of them. His mind, focused more on the whispers of the wind and the rushing of the water, would not submit to his own will. It was, with the clarity born only of both desperation and a self-effacing attitude of one's being, that Elrohir realized his mind was more settled amidst chaos than tranquility. Time in his grandparent's peaceful woods only left him more at odds with himself.

It could be worse, of course. He could be stuck in a traveling party with an irate Glorfindel and an even more irate Morwen. Elrohir, whether embracing the good of the elves or the deviousness of his human blood, took a deep satisfaction in his brother's plight. Though if his brother did not cease in sending all those birds with their messages, Elrohir would be forced to rethink his satisfaction and his flet, with its gathering pile of avian refuse. The desire to leave these woods, to ride fast and hard to catch the party going to the coast, was proving difficult to fight. He could almost taste the salt on his lips and hear the waves rushing in the air.

Elrohir looked to the west and let out a sigh. He jumped down from the flet to branch after branch until he landed on the ground. The blades of grass were soft against his feet as he walked over to a bright patch of sunlight. Elrohir lowered himself until he was flat out, unmindful of the detritus from the trees in his hair, and stared up into the defiant rays of the sun which fought against the canopy of Lothlorien's trees. He closed his eyes and let the wavering sunlight cast interesting shadows inside his eyelids. He could hear the whispers of the elven sentries above him, hidden both by branch and leaf, wondering over his curious behavior. Lothlorien and its elves worshipped the moon and had little regard for the sun but Elrohir, an elf of Imladris, appreciated both the moon and the sun. Moonlight was for secret games and meetings, blankets on dew-covered grass and gathering of friends. Sunlight was for running through the fields, juggling apples in the orchard, training with the sword and the bow, reading by the riverside. It was the oddity of elven people that while the elves of Lothlorien came alive during the night, the elves of Imladris never rested. How his mother managed to survive the transition between the two realms he could not even comprehend. Yet how Elrohir managed to get through his days anywhere, especially now, were a matter of some contemplation, especially since he did not have everyone fooled.

_Your mask of false joy is sickening, you know._ Those were the words whispered by Morwen as she tried to suffocate them both with bed pillows. That day reminded him of their youth, hiding under the linens and whispering their secrets while Elladan was chastised for some matter or other. Elladan and Morwen were close friends, siblings of the heart, but Morwen and Elrohir had always been each other's confidants; whether they wanted to admit it or not. Now, resting in the sunlight with dark thoughts running through his head, Elrohir would give anything to be back in that bedroom, under the linens, whispering like elflings. If Elrohir ever needed a perspective love lost derided from every angle, including their lack of logical argument, Morwen was willing and able to describe them in an ever entertaining list of insults. It had saved Elrohir from more than one shrew, as Morwen called them, or female imitators of the rumored Nazgul, as Elladan termed them.

It was not that Elrohir felt a great love for Nithiel. She was a beauty, yes, with a voice gifted from the Valar and the soft temperament of a doe. She was not abrasive or willful, not outspoken or able to command obedience with a single glance. She held a quiet strength which demanded respect. She was different from all the other females in Elrohir's life, even his mother, who rarely raised her voice but could quiet detractors with a hard look. It was not Nithiel's fault that her difference made her attractive to Elrohir, nor was it her fault that her happiness laid with another person of her home realm. While it hurt to admit, since he had invested so many years in his infatuation for Nithiel, Elrohir knew Elladan's words on the she-elf were true. Elrohir would have grown bored with Nithiel as the years passed. He needed passion in his lover, an eagerness to be heard and a willingness to risk everything, or he needed someone to understand those needs of his own. Nithiel, for all her musical knowledge, regarded history and its battles like most of his age did, as mythological stories and songs for the fireside. Nithiel had never seen the scars on Glorfindel's back, the deep cuts on Lindir and Erestor's sides or the deep knife wound that ran up his own father's right arm. She had never witnessed the darkness that all their eyes held under the elven brightness. She did not know how often all the laughter was made just to fend off the tears and despair. His elders were so good at wearing their own masks that sometimes even Elrohir missed the truth.

Still, Elrohir was more aware of his own mind and heart than any gave him credit for.  
Elrohir knew, just as Elladan did, Nithiel was not the way to happiness. She was, by Elrohir's own admission, the way to distraction. The past few years of his life had left him craving for distraction. Elrohir's dreams had turned to visions on many nights. Visions he would never tell his brother. A condition of foresight, a condition he did not dare share with his father for fear of adding to his cares. A gift he would not reveal to his mother for the way her people revered such a thing. Elrohir heard enough whispers because of his lineage and his standing; he did not need any more about his curious family line and their talents.

There was a fear within Elrohir's heart of his own future. His brother, he worried not for him. Elladan's path was clear, even if he did not see it. Elrohir, however, knew his own would be a matter of much debate. Life of limbo; that was his life, one of uncertain times. Elrohir did not wish to spend the possible rest of his life in contemplation of his body turning as brittle as fallen leaves, as life left both body and the trees. Elrohir would not be one of the elves who wasted his years sitting in silent thought. They had scholars and politicians for that.

The sound of fabric over grass brought Elrohir to alert. He smelled lilies and knew who stood near him. He opened his eyes to the familiar bead work and weaving of his mother's dress, just a shade darker than her mother's. Celebrian became someone else when she walked these woods. His mother became more adult, more refined, her childlike persona shown in Imladris shed as she passed through the mountains. No signs of the colors of Imladris were on her body. Here his mother was pure and wholly in one state, not straddling the cares of two homes. Her silver-gold hair was loose of its normal braids and a look of peace was in her eyes. The smile on her lips was mischievous.

"Contemplating the skies is not the best escape. Perhaps you should watch the water." Celebrian said.

Elrohir sat up and brushed the leaves and sticks out of his hair. "The water?" Elrohir asked.

His mother nodded, "Ripples in the steam are not merely metaphors, Elrohir."

Elrohir's eyes latched on to the pathway to his grandmother's grove. The sky was already dark there. "Must I?" Elrohir asked.

Celebrian held out a hand and helped him to his feet. "My mother will not let me rest until you do, and if I cannot rest, neither shall you, my son. Just let her do this, Elrohir."

"I do not need this, mother." Elrohir insisted.

Celebrian shrugged and began to guide him down the path. "Sometimes we need to see, even when we think we do not."

If ever Elrohir wished he had spoken of his visions, now would be that time.

* * *

Elrohir stood stock still at the entranceway to his grandmother's grove. His mother lead him this far and expected him to go the rest of his way on his own power. He knew he could just as easily run away, but then his mother would be disappointed and his grandmother would know his plan before he even did. Father, among many other things, was insistent on hospitality and good manners. Elrohir had listened to Elrond's own grumbles at being forced to look at the images in the water when he received the same ones in his head, but still, proper behavior was needed. Of course it was also required when one's grandmother is one of the most powerful beings on Arda.

Elrohir's body tensed as he felt someone behind him. He could hear their steady breathing and even though the elf tried to be quiet about it, there was a faintest hint of boot on grass. Vanity had clearly taken this elf as a scent of spice wafted on the air. Of course, the elf could also be doing all this in a deliberate manner to throw Elrohir off guard. He was about to turn around when he caught the flash of silver metal in the moonlight, a sentry's mark. Only one elf would do such a thing to Elrohir. Haldir flicked the back of Elrohir's ear with just enough force to hurt. A move that made Elrohir agree with Morwen's sentiments of hatred against the Lothlorien elf. Even Arwen found annoyance as her most common emotion in regards to the elf.

"Yes, Haldir?" Elrohir asked, not clenching his jaw at all while he spoke.

"Though we may be immortal it is improper to make the Lady wait for you to emerge." Haldir stepped around to face him. "Though, perhaps, you can follow the odd habit of that orphan friend of yours and study the sun. Tell me, is this a common practice in Imladris or is it just for she-elves who should know better?"

Elrohir fought the natural inclination to defend his land and his friends and let a smile come to his face. "Why, Haldir, do you desire to follow in our path? You seem oddly interested in my people's ways. Have you finally decided it is time to leave behind this life of leisure and join a realm where the sentries are more than mere figureheads?" Elrohir patted Haldir's stomach. "You are getting a little soft around the torso, I fear, but then again what else do you expect from someone who spends all day in tree branches?"

"Perhaps you should ask your brother." Haldir said, arms crossed over his front, "I hear he spends plenty of hours spying on people from trees."

"He is only applying all the skills he has learned here." Elrohir said, biting back his laughter.

Haldir glared, "Morwen is a bad influence on you. Perhaps I should tell my Lady to have your time with her limited."

"I would delight in seeing you try." Elrohir said. "Though, it is my grandmother's opinion that Morwen's caution saves Elladan from rash action. You see, she finds her to be a good influence on Elladan and would you, Haldir, like to be in disagreement with my grandmother?"

Haldir was silent as he grasped Elrohir's arm to drag him down the path. "Just look at the blasted mirror." Haldir hissed. "Then we can all return to our peace."

"Inactivity." Elrohir said.

"Peace." Haldir stated.

Elrohir extracted his arm from Haldir's hold. "Thank you for your escort, but I can find the rest of the way myself."

"I hope your future is full of hair loss." Haldir said, a sweet smile on his face.

"And yours full of broken limbs!" Elrohir yelled back.

His grandmother came into his line of sight. Her hair was also loose down her back, the wind only catching the ends.

"You are late." Galadriel said.

"Can you be late for these things?" Elrohir asked.

Galadriel turned around, a soft smile on her face. "You remind me so much of Celeborn with that tongue of yours."

"Mother says it is my father's trait." Elrohir replied, mentally counting the moments she had expressed such a sentiment. Two hundred, perhaps, maybe three.

"Only because your mother has never heard such smart language from her father's mouth." Galadriel held out her hand, "Come, Elrohir."

"Must I?" Elrohir asked. Three. Three hundred was certainly closer.

"Yes, and do not drag your feet and disturb my ground. You had dawdled enough today."

Elrohir held back, "I do not need a pitcher of water to show me what I have no desire to see."

"Fate changes." Galadriel replied.

"Some things do not." Elrohir argued.

"They could." Galadriel said.

Elrohir felt his face warm and a ringing passed through his ears. "Could Gondolin do anything but fall? Could Gil-galad do anything but die? You, most of all Grandmother, know there are things that must pass. Old must make way for the new." Elrohir said, tone cool and quiet.

Galadriel's answer was calm. "It will be so, indeed, it is a universal truth. Do you honestly believe, Elrohir, that your own future is so important that it cannot change?"

"You have eluded to such in the past." Elrohir said.

"For your brother and sister, perhaps." Galadriel replied.

"Are you trying to raise my insecurity and fear for my own future in order to cause a motivation within me and a desire to look at your mirror, because, I must say, that could created a lack of trust." Elrohir answered.

Galadriel's lips twitched. "Elrohir."

"Yes, Grandmother?"

"Look into the water or I will force you, and you do not want me to force you." Galadriel said.

Elrohir laughed, his head shaking, strands of his dark hair catching the moonlight. "Yes, Grandmother."

A sure stride brought Elrohir to the fountain. He took the pitcher of water from Galadriel's hands, ignoring her look of surprise, and poured the water himself. Placing his palms on the rim he caught his grandmother's gaze and with a sure smile reminiscent of his father, he said, "Well, let us have a look then."

* * *

Elrohir's eyes rested on the letters clutched in Celebrian's hands and the open book beside her. All were covered in Morwen's distinctive scrawl. He had not rested for many days, the visions from the mirror a private matter weighing heavy on his mind. Taken with his own dreams, Elrohir could not be sure if the open book of his mother's did have Morwen's writing in it, or rather, if he just wished to see it to calm his yearning for home.

"Morwen wrote a synopsis of the last fifty Arda-wide councils for me." Celebrian said as she caught his gaze. "I thought something in the Lothlorien archives might put an end to the most common disputes."

"Unless Lothlorien has the ability to produce a large and powerful sleeping drought which also manages to erase long-standing disputes in the mind, I do not believe the archives will be of much help."

"You never do know what my mother has hiding around here." Celebrian said as she gestured to the shelves in her room. "She has lived for many years and seen many things."

"So has my father." Elrohir said.

"Indeed. But Elrond's knowledge stems more towards…." Celebrian trailed off. "Well, yes, I suppose a healer would be the best one to ask about the most powerful sleeping drought Arda knows."

Celebrian closed her book. She pressed a hand to Elrohir's cheek. "If you truly wish to hide your fears and thoughts, my son, you have to work harder."

"Secret fears must be kept secret, yes." Elrohir said. "I will do my best." Elrohir clutched his mother's hand, leaned into her touch.

"You can tell me." Celebrian whispered. "You may feel better."

"No, I have to keep this…" Elrohir took a deep breath. "It is mine to decide."

Celebrian nodded and pulled him forward to press a kiss on his forehead. She smiled again before re-opening the book in her lap.

"Whatever you decide, you do not have to do so now or even a century from now. When you need the answer, truly need it, you will have the proper one." Celebrian said.

"How do you know?" Elrohir asked, kneeling at his mother side.

Celebrian looked up from her book. She studied him for a moment and then gave her answer, short thought it was.

"I have faith in you."


	2. Sister Friend

_**Words of A Sermon No One Will Hear 2/4**_

Takes place during the same time as _Mourning Song_

_**Words of a Sermon No One Will Hear**_

"Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no-one will hear,

No-one comes near

Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there,

What does he care?

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?

All the lonely people, where do they all belong?"

-The Beatles, "Eleanor Rigby"

_**Part Two: Sister-Friend**_

_I'm so alone, and I feel just like somebody else _

Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same

But somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams

I think her death it must be killin' me  
  
- The Wallflowers, "One Headlight" 

_**Imladris, TA 2510**_

The dark ceiling of his bedroom was silent and provided no answers, not that it ever did. Sleep had been rare this past two years and the bedroom ceiling never sang a lullaby or offered a sleeping spell. Elrohir rolled onto his side and studied the trees outside, the churned wind shaking their limbs. Imladris' resident elves were quiet tonight. Morwen's return signaled the finality of the past years. Celebrian was gone from Arda. She had left for the Undying lands, long before she should have boarded that boat. There was so much Elrohir wanted to know. Had his mother began to heal closer to the sea? Did she have any final words, gifts, prayers, songs? Why was Morwen, a family friend but not a blood relative, allowed to stay until the end while Celebrian's own children were forbidden. Elrohir knew Morwen and he knew that despite what she had told everyone, there was something else. Arwen knew as well, her cold behavior toward Morwen both justified and understandable. Elladan was far too concerned with his own worries to wonder over the all too many downcasts of Morwen's eyes as she told her tale and Erestor and Glorfindel would understand her reasons for withholding the whole truth. But Elrohir, Elrohir _had_ to know and it could not wait until morning. Elrohir had waited three days, he could not wait until the dawn of the fourth. He suppressed the urge to flinch as his bare feet met the cold floor and pulled on his training tunic from this morning. The halls were still subdued and quiet, as they had been these past two years, and Elrohir gave no heed to his shoeless state and loose hair. It was not if any he passed in these halls would care anyway, family and friends stayed here; though Melui may be shocked to see him and Eluialeth would surely give him one of her lectures on propriety, Elrohir could not care when his mind was set elsewhere.

"Elrohir," Lindir's minstrel-voice whispered, "why are you wandering the halls?"

"I must speak with Morwen." Elrohir said.

The minstrel came closer and studied his face. Elrohir wondered what he saw; if it was the lack of sleep or the hopeless frown that softened Lindir's eyes. He was always the most difficult to fool of their care-takers, but when he did give in, they always got away with the most mischievous things.

Lindir patted Elrohir's head, and Elrohir caught a flash of bare wrist and the sight of an old battle scar before Lindir said, "I can see it will not wait until morning. Morwen is in the library, as she has been these past three nights."

"The library, truly?" Elrohir asked. "Why is she not in Glor.."

Lindir held up a hand to silence Elrohir. "Wherever Morwen may start and end her nights is her business, but the middles are spent in the library. She is writing some account and can only find the time to do so then."

"An account?" Elrohir asked. "For what?"

Lindir placed a hand on Elrohir's book and pushed him in the direction of the library. "Why do you not ask her yourself? I, on the other hand, must go out into the gardens to compose my next piece."

"It is the middle of the night, Lindir!"

"Yes, the best time to write music is always by moonlight." Lindir replied as he took off toward the family gardens.

Elrohir shook his head in disbelief but found himself smiling at the thought of music in the Imladrian night. It would not be right if one passed without someone singing or playing a song.

Elrohir found Morwen alone. He stood in the entryway and watched her, bare feet propped up on an empty bench and showing far too much bare leg to be anywhere within a mile of proper. Hair loose from a night of anything but sleep, nightshirt becoming stained with ink and baring a hint of shoulders. If it was anyone else, the scandal of the she-elf's appearance would have made its way to Gondor by now, but since it was Morwen, a councilor known to lose herself in her work, most matters were forgiven.

"Are you going to come inside the library or are you going to continue your act of holding up the doorway?" Morwen asked, glance steady on her work.

Elrohir felt the familiar joy of their banter as he replied, "We like to call it leaning."

"I like to call it impeding the exit and entrance." Morwen said, slipping into her own role.  
"Is it possible for you to lean elsewhere? You are blocking the way."

"For whom?" Elrohir asked. Experience told him he should have expected the cleared throat behind him, but experience had also taught Elrohir that more often than not, experience was ignored in the middle of the night.

"Sorry." Elrohir whispered as he stepped aside to let in the irritated looking scribe. "Been there long?" Elrohir asked.

The scribe gave Elrohir the look that the son of Elrond swore Erestor taught to all his underlings. Elrohir watched as the scribe disappeared into one of the dark stacks.

"Chatty fellow." Elrohir murmured as he settled down beside Morwen.

"Scribes are better at listening than talking." Morwen replied as she carefully shook sand over the wet page to hold the ink in place and begin the drying process. Elrohir studied the wooden shaker, so rudimentary in shape. An outsider would wonder why someone of Morwen's status would use such a thing, but few knew this was the same salt shaker Thalion had made for Morwen when she became a scribe. Arwen had made another of glass a few years back, but Morwen swore it was too precious to use and kept it safe in a lined box.

"Have you spoken with Arwen?" Elrohir asked.

Morwen looked up from her writing, resting the quill on the side. "I believe we are still working through gestures and glances, but she no longer storms out of the room when I enter. I understand her anger, but I only wish she would speak with me to understand my purpose for going. Elladan already has and I take it this is your attempt to do so, now that you have fretted about it for three days."

Elrohir studied the other quills, picking up one to sharpen it. "When did Elladan speak with you?"

"Elladan and I always find the time." Morwen replied.

Elrohir tried again to move the focus away from him. "You look particularly ravished."

Morwen pulled a book from the other side of the bench and held it up, "Though I adore you, I will not hesitate to heave this book at you."

"You would never damage literature so." Elrohir stopped as he read the title of the heavy tome held in Morwen's hands. The familiar and hated words of _Epic Poetry of the First Age_ stared up at him, in all its glory and Quenya.

Morwen's smile was perfect and predatory. "Oh, dear Elrohir, in some cases I would."

"I am starting to regret my decision to speak to you again after your flight from the valley."

"This is speaking?" Morwen asked. "I thought this was the exchange of pleasantries before preparing both of our selves for discussion."

"There is still a verbal exchange." Elrohir argued.

"Do you have a point?" Morwen asked.

"Yes, I just made it in your quill." Elrohir answered.

"Elrohir." Morwen threatened, book raised.

"Is this some form of scribe torture? Heaving of books?"

"I will drop this on one part of your body you will not want it dropped on."

"Fine." Elrohir spat out. "Why you?"

"Pardon?" Morwen asked. Elrohir had to fight the urge to set up the scoring of their exchange for a game of Questions.

"So eloquent." Elrohir said. "Why you? Why out of everyone my mother knows were you the one she let stay. She could have sent you back. She could have—"

Morwen, as per her normal behavior, interrupted. "First, Elrohir, I did honestly have business in the Havens. Galdor warned me months ago I would be called upon to assist in their research. Second, your mother knows plenty of people in the Havens, especially that one elf, what's his name again, oh yes, Cirdan. Third…"

"Third what?" Elrohir asked as Morwen lapsed into silence.

Morwen framed Elrohir's face with her palms and spoke quickly. "I am not her child, I am not her husband, mother, father, handmaiden, confidant, long standing friend or any other. I am a child she helped raise, a lady she tried to rear and a scribe she used more often than not. I did not want to keep her here and she had no reason to stay for me. I was not the only one who could have gone, but I was the one who went. Elrohir, if you, or Arwen, or Elladan or anyone else was there she would have stayed and she would have died. You know that. You do not wish to acknowledge that, you want to find another reason, another cure, another way. Elrohir, if anyone could have done it, found it, performed it, it was your father and he did all he could and then some. You tell others these things Elrohir to placate them, but why do you not believe them?"

Elrohir pulled back and said, "Because it does not make sense to me upon reflection."

Morwen held up a finger in contention, "Upon doubt, you are doubting yourself and your actions."

"Hands already covered in orc blood will do that." Elrohir murmured.

"Elves are not known for holding back their vengeance." Morwen argued.

"Morwen," Elrohir asked, "what if I can't sail?"

Morwen's faced dropped in confusion. "What?"

"What if I can't sail, because of all I've done and all I will do. Grandmother is forbidden to go."

"She started a riot and she is not forbidden, she is just not yet allowed. If all those who fought in the Second Age have been allowed to pass, and elves like Glorfindel were not just forgiven but reborn, I am sure that your ridding Arda of a few legions of orcs will not forbid your boat from going the whole way. Whether or not you will let your self sail is another matter."

Elrohir shrugged. "Perhaps you are correct, though I have know you to be wrong in the past. I mean, what elf would allow herself to be so swayed by Glorfindel's charms that she wanders the halls at night looking like you?"

Morwen's gaze narrowed. "May I remind you of your all too brief affair with that one milk maid, who was actually the daughter of a visiting Gondorian dignitary? The tryst which almost resulted in a disastrous marriage for both realms?"

"How was I to know she was the daughter of royal blood?" He protested. "She was wearing the clothes of a milk maid and did not correct me on the assumption until it was far too late."

"So much for the great observation of the elves." Morwen said.

"I can have you sent to Lothlorien for a decade, with special instructions to assign Haldir as your personal guard." Elrohir said.

Morwen cocked her head to the side and said, "Do that and I will inform everyone in your hunting party that your 'lucky piece of cloak worn during your first orc raid' is in fact a remnant of the jacket you had Lindir make for your stuffed pony."

"You leave Mr. Trotter out of your wicked plans." Elrohir warned, little malice in his tone. Their affectionate banter was familiar and comforting, and while Morwen had reiterated her basic answers from before, she had supplied more things for Elrohir to think upon, a restful night of sleep did not seem in his future.

Morwen turned back to her writing, smoothing down the new page. "What _are_ you writing?" Elrohir asked.

"An account of the daily events."

"The daily events?" Elrohir raised a brow. "Are you that worried about historical documentation?"

"Elrohir, they will be sent west at the end of each year." Morwen said.

"Cirdan needs to catch-up on gossip?" Elrohir asked.

Morwen sighed, "Elrohir, they are for your mother."

"Can we do that?" Elrohir asked.

"We are doing that." Morwen glanced up at him. "Do you wish to write something down?"

"Before you send it, yes, now I fear it would not be very coherent or what I would want her to hear from me."

"See, you do have wisdom and foresight."

"Just wisdom." Elrohir corrected her.

"Whatever you desire to believe." Morwen murmured.

"What, did you find your own magical fountain that tells the truth?" Elrohir grumbled.

"I have just read the personal accounts of all those who have the gift and recognized some of the signs. Of course, you also confirmed my suspicions with your previous statement." Morwen said.

Elrohir stared at her and said, "You are far too well-trained."

"Oh, tell Erestor that." Morwen pushed book and quill away, wiping her hands on a rag. "Let us go back to your room."

"So forward, Morwen, I feel as if my virtue is in danger."

"I have to retrieve some papers from my own room and yours is on the way."

"Yours or Glorfindel's?" Elrohir asked as Morwen stood.

"Mine. You can do the proper thing and accompany me or I can leave you in this library alone to contemplate your thoughts and with a scribe who wishes to silence you."

"Lovely time for a walk." Elrohir said while he followed Morwen to the door.

* * *

The darkness of Morwen's room always startled him, no matter the amount of time he spent within its comforting walls. The familiar smell of candle wax, roses, ink and paper enveloped him, trigging memories of days spent reading on the floor and nights playing games with the fortune-telling cards Gildor brought back from his travels and eating the sweet nuts Glorfindel always sneaked into their hands. The bed was still made and Elrohir wondered if Morwen had even slept in it since her arrival home. Elrohir sat on the bed, hands pressed to the comforter as Morwen dug through various satchels, a slew of undignified words falling from her mouth.

"Have Melui and Galdor settled in well?" Elrohir asked.

"Yes, quite. Nithiel was happy to see Galdor again, though I think Galdor still fears some sort of wrath from you."

"I have no reason to be so, we find the ones we are meant for do we not?"

"Oh, Elrohir, must you go off at that again?" Morwen asked.

"Have to believe in something, Morwen. Have to have faith."

"Have to get some real rest and stop wondering about all the what-ifs and the might-have-beens and move on with life because you can't change what has already happened and you can change what will."

Morwen's speech would have been more convincing if her head was not buried inside a leather sack.

Elrohir laughed, "You may want to debate that matter with my Grandmother."

"Elrohir, just because you saw something in your sleep does not mean it will come to pass nor does it mean you can live your life trying to keep it from coming to pass." Morwen said, pulling out papers from the apparently bottomless sack.

"Just live then?"

"Do what you've always done, remember what you see and what you fear but do not be ruled by it." Morwen stood up, "Finally." A pile of papers were clutched in her hands. "I almost thought I'd left these in the Havens."

Morwen placed the papers on the bed and began sorting through them, moving each into their own designated area. Elrohir watched as tally sheets of food and armor stores were separated from meeting minutes and a thick envelope. The envelope drew his attention, the distinct slant of his mother's writing jumping from the vellum. The ink was not dark, a soft hand wrote it, and Elrohir wondered how much strength it took to simply write the brief message of "When It Is Time" down. Had his mother sealed the words away with her wax stamp? Had they remembered to pack it? Would she need it over there, across the sea?

"Will you stop it?" Morwen asked, tucking the envelope at the bottom of her piles, now gathered in her arms.

"I cannot stop thinking, you know this."

"You need to change something before you start to physical show all your worries." Morwen said.

"It cannot be too bad."

Morwen shook her head and said, "Elladan knows, he just does not know what to say."

"That is common for him now." Elrohir agreed. "I spoke with Arwen, but she suffers her own worries, I think she will leave soon. I worry for her.."

"Do not. She has her own wounds to heal as do you, stop worrying about the others, Elrohir, and concentrate on yourself."

"Agreed." Elrohir laid down on the bed. "May I sleep here? The change might help."

Morwen patted his head, "Just be gone before morning and try not to be seen by Crabanon. We do not need even more rumors in this land."

"Are you going back to bed soon?" Elrohir asked.

"I must finish my writing first and then try to find some way to calm Arwen down enough to speak with me, as selfish as it might sound, I miss her. I also need to speak with Rian, but that can wait until the morning." Morwen leaned down, her lips brushed his forehead before she stepped away. "Sleep well, Elrohir, and I wish you rest without any dreams which will bother you."

Elrohir watched as Morwen left the room, pausing only to snub out the candles. In the dark room, void of all light except from the one small window, and surrounded by the smells of happier and more innocent times, Elrohir finally laid down his head to rest.

* * *

It was never good to be late for a patrol, but even worse when one was late, not in their own bedroom, and in desperate need of speaking with their father first. Especially when one's father was a busy elf who spent most of his days in meetings. Elrohir ran through the house, fastening his cloak and girding his belt as he tried to take the shortest route to his father's study. He breathed a sigh of relief as he approached the door and decided to add three more miles to his runs since he should not be this winded, but was stopped from barging inside his father's office. Voices, his father and Morwen. The door was not open, nor was it closed, and Elrohir crouched down to look inside.

"She told me to give these to you." Morwen handed over the envelope from last night, the seal now broken. "There is a letter to you in there, and letters each for Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen. She said you would know when they needed to be given. All is explained in her letter."

His father pulled the letters out, and finding one suitable, opened and scanned the page. "It says there should be two for me." Elrond regarded Morwen with a curious look.

"There are. I kept the last one, addressed to you as well. She said _I_ would know when to give it to you."

"I must trust her words then." Elrond replied. "Is there anything else? Elrohir is outside the door and not even bothering to hide himself, so I take it is urgent."

"Since he is supposed to leave with the morning patrol, I would say yes." Morwen opened the door. "You might wish to take lessons from Elladan."

"I spend enough time in trees to begin with." Elrohir said, pushing Morwen out of the room, "do you not have things to write? Scribes to train? Eluialeths to guard?"

Morwen gave him the scribe-trained glare and left the room.

"Elrohir, what is so urgent that you forget yourself?" Elrond asked, guiding his youngest son to a chair.

Elrohir studied the stitching in his boots and told his concerns to the floor. "For years I have been experiencing dreams, visions really. I did not want to tell you but with things being as they are, I do not think I need more distraction in my life. I just wondered, what do you do to quiet them?"

Elrond clasped his son's arm. "I was waiting for you to tell me and I will answer your question once you have the time to devote to it. For now, Elrohir, keep to your routine and go out on your patrol. Your fellow warriors are waiting for you."

Elrohir nodded and stood to leave.

"You look better than you have in days, even if you are running late." Elrond said as he moved behind his desk.

Elrohir laughed, "Father, I finally found some rest. I just needed a slight change." The smile was still on his face as Elrohir dashed through the corridors towards the stables. He already wondered what punishment Glorfindel would set forth for Elrohir's latest tardy.


	3. Blood Brothers

_**Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien and Co. **_

_**Words of a Sermon No One Will Hear**_

Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no-one will hear,

No-one comes near

Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there,

What does he care?

All the lonely people, where do they all come from? Br

All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

-The Beatles, "Eleanor Rigby"

_Part Three: Blood Brothers_

_And the doubts that have surrounded me _

Are finding their way in

I keep it close to me

Like a holy man prays

In my desperate hour

It's better that way  
  
-Melissa Etheridge, "Angels Would Fall" 

_**October, TA 3018, Imladris**_

"You are early." Morwen hissed, throwing water over Elrohir's head as he undressed. "You are early, dirty, and beaten bearing bad news and we have a house full of guests."

"The next time I see the Nazgul." Elrohir yelled over the buckets of water being poured on him, "I will ask them to kindly wait to invade our land until after all our guests have arrived." Elrohir jumped at the sudden splash of hot water on his skin. "Do you have any soap in your arsenal of cleaning supplies to be used as weapons?"

Elrohir wondered how it was that even after being on the road for months, he and his brother were still treated as if they never left. It was not like they planned to arrive before all the other delegates and really, it was far from their fault Mithrandir was captured, thus delaying his meeting with the hobbits thus causing them to take up with Estel, thus leading them into an attack of the shadow wraiths. Elrohir could handle the scolding though, as long as he got soap with it.

"I do," Morwen said, throwing the soap cake at him, "not that you deserve it, but we can't have you stinking up the place."

"Estel would never stand for the competition." Elladan yelled from his corner, Eluialeth tugging at his hair to pull out all the twigs. "Where is Rian?" he asked.

"At the welcoming feast; it would look suspicious if all of the female councilors disappeared and Arwen needed the company." Eluialeth answered.

"Who is helping Estel then?" Elrohir asked.

"Nithiel; Legolas is to arrive as well this night." Morwen answered, pouring more water over Elrohir's head.

"It feels as if we are on the brink of something." Elladan yelled, shaking the water from his hair.

"We are beyond the brink, Elladan, and have been since the Nazgul were released." Elrohir answered.

"Never matter." Morwen stated, throwing the soft towels of Imladris at his body. "How fare our wandering friends?"

"The elves or the Dunedain?" Elrohir asked, wiping his face as Morwen leaned over him to tie his hair back.

"Elves are well, if staying closer to the West." Elladan answered. "The Dunedain are ready for battle, even their young are walking with small swords and bows."

Eluialeth huffed as she dried her hands on a towel. "It is a sad fate when children must bear the arms of war."

"It is their survival and their creed, to fight and protect until there is no breath left within them." Elrohir said, walking over to the pile of clean clothing as Morwen gathered up his used towels. "Where are the chamber maids?"

"Serving all our guests." Eluialeth replied, depositing a stack of towels into Elladan's hands. "Do you find our services so wanting, Elrohir?" she asked.

"Hardly." Elrohir replied, sitting still as Morwen began to braid his hair. "It has been some time, that is all."

"We have strict instructions to stay with you until the feast is over." Morwen answered. "Not that we would not wish to assure your father, and Rian, of your well-being."

"See, Elrohir, it is all trickery." Elladan said. "They have us strip and help us bathe only to see if we are hiding any injuries."

"You have done it in the past." Morwen admonished.

"So have you." Elrohir reminded her.

"Are the pesky elves clean yet?" Aragorn asked from the doorway.

"Elrohir is presentable at least." Morwen replied, standing up to embrace the man. "I swear you have grown again." She said to the man that towered over her. "I remember when you were as big as my knee."

"I remember when he was shorter than Eluialeth." Elladan replied. Elrohir stifled his laughter as he heard Eluialeth's hand smack against Elladan's skin.

Elrohir stood and surrounded his adopted brother with his arms. "It is good to see you well; you had us all worried for a moment."

"What is about you elves," Aragorn murmured into Elrohir's neck, "you hear the word Nazgul and you send out your warriors of old." Aragorn pulled back from his embrace, "Do you not see they are getting too old do such a thing? I thought Glorfindel was going to be outrun by a hobbit for a moment there."

"We are going to tell him you said that." Elladan stated as he embraced Aragorn from the other side. "Don't mind me, I think I'll just collapse here."

"Weak elf gone all tired?" Aragorn asked. "Did my people wear you out?"

Elladan snorted, "Your people are unremitting folk who take rest far less than they should; they rise early and go to bed late and wake their elven comrades by throwing young boys into the tent to beat us with wooden swords until we agree to come out."

Eluialeth scoffed, "I cannot wait until your own young grace this world, Elladan."

Elrohir ceased the battle of words when he said, "Let us go to Morwen's office to speak of our news."

"I will get us some food for the discussion." Morwen said, bowing out of the room.

"And I," Eluialeth said with a sigh, "will find some paper and ink for notes."

"Tirnion has already left to start the fire in the office." Aragorn called. "I passed him on the way here."

"October breeze too cool for you, mortal?" Elrohir asked.

Aragorn grinned, "I only know how much Elladan despises a cold room."

"I think he worries more for a cold bed." Elrohir muttered, ignoring the look from his twin as he walked towards the door. "Come along, boys, we have a meeting to get to."

* * *

"You smell like pipe-weed." Tirnion said as he sat down next to Aragorn.

"What did you expect the dirty mortal to smell like?" Elladan asked.

"I was speaking to you." Tirnion said, flicking Elladan on the right ear.

"Ages of life and this is how elves treat each other." Aragorn muttered. "What news from your travels?"

Tirnion shrugged, "Letters from Mirkwood tell no good news. They still search for Gollum but to no avail."

Elrohir nodded, heading to the door when he smelled the sweet drinks Morwen and Eluialeth carried.

"Were you lost?" Elladan asked the entering females. "It took you long enough to enter."

"It may have escaped your notice, Elladan, but there is a large feast going on right now with many guests from many lands. The kitchen staff is a tad overrun and was not very appreciative of our bothering them." Eluialeth said.

"It may have gone faster if we had additional hands to help carry everything, but alas, you were too tried from your journey to remember your manners." Morwen said, placing a jug on the nearest table. "At least that is what we told the kitchen maids so eager to hear of your return from the wild."

"Yes," Eluialeth said, standing beside Morwen, "perhaps we should mention to Rian the sudden interest the kitchen maids have in the whereabouts of her betrothed."

Morwen nodded, slapping the back of Elladan's head, "If I find out you have done something dishonorable I will wound you in a place you will not enjoy."

"With what?" Elladan asked. "Your sharp wit? Your razor tongue? Your biting sarcasm? Your..ow!" Elladan exclaimed as everyone in the room delivered a swat. Elladan rubbed the back of his head and glared at everyone around the table. "I assure you all I have done nothing untoward, I am merely a delivery boy for their ribbon desiring whims."

"Oh?" Elrohir asked. "Is that why you risked life and limb so your pack would not fall into the river? Do you fear the kitchen maids so much?"

"I fear anyone who has the ability to poison my drink and meal." Elladan answered.

Aragorn nodded as he ripped a piece of bread off the loaf. "He does have a valid point."

"It was bound to happen sooner or later." Eluialeth murmured, pulling out stylus and wax tablet from somewhere in the room. Elrohir was positive she had writing materials stashed in every room of the home.

"If we are done with the playful banter and the show of affection through turn of phrases and soft insults, may we please do what we have gathered for?" Eluialeth asked, stylus at the ready.

Elrohir watched Aragorn's body as Eluialeth spoke. The laughter from earlier was gone as his body tensed. His posture was still casual, relaxed to those who had not spent centuries among warriors. Tirnion and Elladan were much the same way. Glorfindel called it a "casual readiness" that all warriors had, the waiting on the knife's edge for something to happen. When asked if it ever went away Glorfindel had answered with a lecture on how such training and instincts saved lives and such was the cost of knowing the world. Still, Elrohir knew they were all more relaxed here, in this small room with trusted friends, than any would be out in the feast hall with the rumors and the sightings they all knew were truth. The presence of so many strangers had everyone in Imladris on alert, Elrohir saw it from the stable masters up to his father. Either way, their little Estel was not ready to talk yet, was perhaps still waiting until he heard other news to weigh the facts and decide on their next action.

Elrohir spoke first, "Elladan and I were doing our monthly check-in with the Dunedain community nearest the sea. Wolves are starting to prowl closer to their settlements, but they are in good health; three new births reported, Halbarad's sister among the new mothers. Their reports came back with multiple sightings of three different Nazgul."

"How could they tell the difference?" Eluialeth asked, still making notes.

"Different horses and the bridles for each rider are different." Elladan answered.

Tirnion and Aragorn looked up, "They are?"

"Such suspicions were held in the past, but the washed up remains of the horses confirm this belief." Morwen replied. "Such things were not brought into Imladris at the time, but sentries are holding them in the watch-tower of the west."

Elladan nodded and put down his drink. "People are on alert from the Havens to here; orc sightings are more frequent than ever and there are rumors of an even more deadly creature coming out of the south."

"Uruk-hai?" Aragorn asked.

Elladan nodded in response.

Eluialeth looked up in confusion, her hands paused.

"The creatures that overran Osgiliath before Celebrian was attacked." Tirnion said

Eluialeth raised a brow, "I thought those were orcs."

"They are." Elrohir said. "Just stronger and more fatal; there are also fewer numbers and they tend to stay near Mordor. Rumors of their apparent journey north is troubling, to say the least."

"Anything else of interest on your travels?" Aragorn asked.

"We heard of your exploits at Bree." Elladan said. "Always have to make an impression, don't you, Strider?"

Aragorn shrugged in response, ducking his head as a slight blush appeared across his cheeks.

Elrohir saved his adopted brother from anymore teasing. "We spoke with Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, they are, as per usual, as unconcerned as the Ents."

"With as much power as they have, I would not worry either. Being of the earth and so ancient, I do not think anything could concern them." Tirnion said.

"I think an unnatural death to all nature could." Morwen said. "But we cannot rely on their power, there are only a very few like them and they do not bother with matters outside their home."

"We walked the trails of Fornost as well." Elladan said. "No obvious hint but I could hear something coming from the Witch-King's Halls."

"It is too bad we did not have Crabanon's large ears with us." Elrohir lamented.

"What good we they do besides tell you what the Witch-King was having for dinner and what the ugly orc and the uglier orc did for the night's entertainment." Tirnion muttered.

"Still upset over Crabanon's recent rumor concerning you and Arwen?" Eluialeth asked.

"Yes, how is it that my beloved becomes part of a scandal involving you?" Aragorn asked, a wide smile on his face.

"Will you leave him alone?" Eluialeth asked. She pushed a plate of bread and meat over to Aragorn. "You, eat. Arwen would slap us all if you fainted from hunger."

"It would be better if we had a meeting with our whole camp later." Elrohir said. "We have little to offer but confirmation of all we fear."

"And a few more confirmed orc deaths." Elladan said. "And a flock of crebain toward Lothlorien's skies."

"Have you heard the rumors of a wizard aligning with Sauron?" Aragorn asked, staring into his mug as if it held the answer.

"I believe Mithrandir plans to address those concerns in the official meeting." Elrohir said.

"Knowing all that was out there now, I wonder if I did the right thing." Aragorn murmured.

Elrohir jumped as Morwen slammed down her drink. "Of course you did the right thing, Estel."

Aragorn sighed, "That hobbit…"

"That hobbit is still alive and would have died if it wasn't for your skill and action; they all would be dead by now if you had not led them away." Morwen stated. "They are from the Shire, Estel, they do not know the ways of the world outside of their bucolic paradise. Without you they would either be dead or captured and for that little hobbit something even worse."

Tirnion grasped Aragorn's hand, "You are not all-knowing, Aragorn, no one is and you know that. You did the same thing all of us would have done, perhaps with more patience and care than we would have had."

"Tirnion's correct, Estel." Elladan said. "You did the exact thing we would have done, and we have millennia of training over you."

"I just…" Aragorn's words faded into silence.

"Is this because you fear it would have come to a worse end without Glorfindel riding to your side?" Elrohir asked. He took Aragorn's stiff posture as his answer. "Aragorn, Glorfindel was sent out to patrol as we know he's one of the few elves the Witch-King fears. When he received news of your need, traveling with four hobbits and a pony, with Nazgul on your tail, do you honestly think he would have done anything but help?"

"To be honest, I'm surprised he did not reach you sooner." Eluialeth said.

"Asfaloth has been a bit temperamental lately." Morwen said. "Refused to acknowledge Glorfindel the other day."

"Perhaps he heard the rumor that Glorfindel is looking for another horse." Tirnion said.

"Either way." Elrohir interrupted what was sure to be a long debate on equine relations, "you took the correct course of action, the only one under your circumstances."

Aragorn nodded at their words. "I suppose."

"No supposing about it." Elladan said, standing up. "I hear music, which means they have moved to the Hall of Fire and as I could do with some song and dance tonight, I say we head down."

"Agreed." Tirnion said and waited for Eluialeth to store her notes.

Elrohir exchanged a glance with Morwen and then looked to Estel. He was clean, yes, but his clothes were still the travel-worn outfits from his pack and his hair could do with a bit of trimming. Morwen and Elrohir moved in tandem, standing behind Aragorn who was finishing the last of his drink. Aragorn placed the cup down and pushed his chair out, startled as Elrohir grabbed his right arm and Morwen his left.

"What are you two doing?" Aragorn demanded.

"We need to do something about your hair." Morwen said.

"And your clothes." Elrohir continued.

"And that beard." Morwen finished. She pressed a finger to the overgrown mess on Aragorn's face. "Really, could you not find a moment to just manage this?"

"In case it has escaped your notice, I am a man and not an elf." Aragorn said.

Morwen sighed as she dragged Aragorn and Elrohir to the door. "When will you stop using that excuse? Just admit when your out in the wild you are lazy."

"When I am out in the wild, my appearance is the least of my concerns." Aragorn protested.

Elrohir smiled as he tapped Aragorn on the back of my head. "Well, my brother, you are now in Imladris and it is time, once again, to introduce you to the razor and the hair shears."

* * *

Elrohir sat nestled in a tree branch overlooking the back of the council. Why father had decreed the meeting would be outside, Elrohir would never know. Erestor had made some murmuring about wanting an easy escape in case the Mirkwood elves decided to battle again with the dwarves. Elladan and Elrohir were supposed to be at the council meeting but Erestor and Elrond had decided at the last moment to remove them, wanting to keep their faces hidden from strangers until the proper time for reveal. Morwen and Eluialeth were also removed once the men of the South made disparaging comments about females in political power. The removal had been both for a need of peace at the council and for keeping Morwen and Eluialeth from scarring the men of the South with their verbal insults. Eluialeth had took the dismissal in stride, and climbed up to the observation deck which overlooked the outside council, pretending to work on her sewing as she listened in, Rian at her side. Arwen was in the healing halls, attending to some of the wounded from this morning's patrol. Balanauth, still quite a sight in the colors of Mirkwood and not Imladris was at her side, claiming how much he missed the halls.

Morwen, not a fan of sewing circles and far too familiar with the healing halls, was doing what she did best when annoyed, annoying Elrohir.

"Why don't you go find Elladan." Elrohir whispered as he tried to get a better look at the council members' backs.

"Because he is hiding in a bush not far from where the other hobbits are hiding. It would not do to reveal all of their positions." Morwen answered.

"Oh, but mine is perfectly alright?" Elrohir hissed down at her.

"For all the human and dwarves know you are communing with a tree." Morwen said, twirling a dagger between her fingers.

"Please, go elsewhere." Elrohir said.

"But Elrohir.." Morwen whined.

"Not listening." Elrohir muttered, staring back at the council. He should have known not to insult Morwen when her ire was up. He should have remembered this was the tree Morwen designated as her own. He should have seen it coming when the tree branches suddenly swayed, shaking him from their limbs and causing him to slip, falling and hitting two other branches on his way to the leafy ground. He should have seen it, but he did not.

Elrohir grabbed for his side and tried to sit up, glaring at the smug smile on Morwen's face.

"That will teach you to ignore me." The councilor said.

"How did you manage to convince the tree to that?" Elrohir asked, rubbing a hand against his bruised tailbone.

"It helps to embrace the trees' friends; such as the elves of Mirkwood. I also have never committed the stupid act of molesting a tree in a drunken stupor." Morwen answered with serene smile.

"You witnessed it though." Elrohir grumbled.

"I though a cat was being tortured and dying." Morwen explained.

"No, that is what it sounds like when you try to sing." Elrohir said.

"Do you want me to kick you?" Morwen asked. "Because I am very tempted at this moment."

"I am trying to observe the meeting." Elrohir said. "I would think that matter would be important to you."

"Knowing Erestor and Elrond are planning a whole month of debate before any action is taken dissuades my need to know everything that is going on at the council right now. Considering the fact that every being up there, save the Men of the South, have personally told me what news they bring, I fear I am missing nothing but the chance to watch on in amusement as the prideful males fight over the right to play the hero." Morwen stated.

"Yes, but I was just listening to how deeply Curunir has betrayed us all." Elrohir protested.

"I know I am not the only elf who finds the betrayal anything but surprising." Morwen muttered, eyes rolling in a gesture she had never outgrown.

"Indeed." Elrohir agreed. "Why did you come out here?"

"Your father wishes to speak with you." Morwen finally revealed.

"My father is currently leading a council." Elrohir said.

"Your father has the ability to mind-speak, or mind-order in this case." Morwen said. "Or did the knock to your head make you forget that?"

"Any idea why?" Elrohir asked.

Morwen shrugged, "I suppose it has something to do with the decisions that will be made after this council. Your father has been pacing his office debating over something since you last rode out."

Elrohir cocked his head, attempting to lead Morwen down a different conversational path. "Speaking of riding out, is Glorfindel well? I noticed he has been quiet in the proceedings, well, besides telling people how foolish it would be to keep the One Ring out in the open."

"I gather he is well but as I have not spoken to him since his return I can only guess as well as you can." Morwen answered, sitting down beside him.

"Morwen…." Elrohir shook his head. "This is as bad as it could possibly get, or is rather on the threshold of the worse, now is the time to put aside the play we've been enacting for the past centuries and for you and Glorfindel to…"

"Elrohir, now is the time to stick to long established routine. We cannot make any noticeable changes and you must remember Glorfindel, your father, now Aragorn, all have ancient and deadly enemies. With Curunir throwing his lot in with Sauron, with all the knowledge Curunir has of elvish dealings and our realms, we cannot make any elf a target for attack. Most of our resources are going to go towards the massive movement of elves Westward. I am currently trying to find scribes to replace the councilors who plan to flee within the coming weeks." Morwen said.

"How many are leaving?" Elrohir asked, fearing the number.

"The number grows with each dawn." Morwen whispered.

Elrohir looked back to the council, listening to their debates on what do with the Ring, Glorfindel's ancient voice speaking in calm tones over the others, speaking of endings and beginnings, of sacrifice and death, speaking of things Glorfindel knew as well as he knew breathing.

As a child Elrohir had wondered what could have made elves like those of Gondolin. He wondered how all could stay and fight, knowing the battle was one they would lose. Elrohir's life had seen a few battles, but he had never witnessed a city sacked by forces of evil. Desperate men from the mountains burning villages to the ground, that he had seen. He could not imagine watching an elven city of stone burn as dragons and balrgos destroyed everything. How many war councils had his father, Glorfindel, and Erestor sat in on? How many times had Glorfindel faced a dark fate and said with some sense of certainty how much the elves would risk for victory.

Elrohir listened to the heavy quiet of the council. The noon bell rang, cutting through the silence of the gathered peoples. Elrohir stood, holding out an arm for Morwen to take. They walked towards the platform, steps quick and subtle. A soft voice spoke, wavering in tone, but clear.

_"I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way."_

"Is that…." Elrohir trailed off.

"The hobbit, Bilbo's nephew, Frodo is his name." Morwen whispered, her head bowed.

The wind blew through the trees as Elrond spoke of fate and tasks. The council was broken, left for deliberations and for meal time. Elrohir and Morwen stood, watching with wide eyes and slight smiles as Gandalf guided Bilbo and Frodo down the path.

* * *

Elrohir pulled everything out of his pack, checking it for the third time this morning. Elladan's was also strewn about. It was a habit Elrohir developed in the years after his mother's attack; he wanted to make sure everything was there, from weapons to food to a wide array of healing herbs and lotions. His light armor was also out, waiting to be donned, but first he had to suffer through Erestor's ever more common lectures on diplomatic relations.

Elladan sat in the window sill, eating and apple and watching Rian lead a party of young girls in a harvest dance. They would miss the ceremony this year, Elrohir was certain they would miss mid-winter as well. They were to ride out with Aragorn and then, before returning, visit Lothlorien in a bid to hear anymore news.

Their father was deeply bothered, trying to decide who should go with the hobbit, who should stay behind, and who should join the secret patrols. Elrohir never did make that meeting with his father; Aragorn had desired a meeting the moment propriety allowed it. The past two days consisted of nothing but endless meetings and strategic planning. Thandrog and Galdor were already out on the road. Gildor was briefed on the situation by carrier bird while Elrond had used much strength to mind-speak with Galadriel and Thranduil.

"I wonder if Sauron ever imagined his ring of power falling into the hands of a hobbit." Elrohir murmured as he refolded fresh bandages.

"I doubt he even knew what a hobbit was until word got out to the Nazgul." Elladan said, twirling the apple core between his fingers. "Imagine someone that small charged with destroying the main apparatus of evil on Arda."

"The hobbit's innocence and lack of knowledge about the world leaves him as the only option to bear such a burden, or so Glorfindel, Gandalf, and Elrond say." Erestor said.

"Do you not agree?" Elrohir aside.

"I suppose I do." Erestor said, "I would never task an elf with such a matter. I remember what the silmarils caused, I could not imagine what the Ring would do. There are other creatures on Arda who care little for power."

"But those same creatures care little for matters outside themselves." Elladan interrupted. "When was the last time you saw an Ent intervene in anything?"

"I do not believe any elf has seen that yet." Erestor said. "Though according to Radagast the Ents find elves to be the equivalent of how most elves regard hobbits."

"And that is?" Elladan asked.

"Small meddlesome creatures with large appetites and fanciful ideas about the world." Erestor answered.

"I wonder what the Ents think of men, then." Elrohir said.

"They probably like Aragorn, he talks to trees about as much as Thranduil." Elladan said.

"I told you that visit to Grandmother would change him." Elrohir murmured.

Erestor placed his ledger down and stared at the wall. "He was not the only one changed."

Elrohir nodded, Elladan following his action, as the room grew silent. It was not a subject the family often spoke of, for no matter what outcome they came to, there was a conflict of interest. Who was to blame for the situation? Arwen, for waiting centuries to fall in love and then deciding on a human? Aragorn, for doing what his own forefather Beren did and falling in love with an elf maiden? Galadriel, for dressing up Aragorn like an elven prince and all but creating a match? The twins, for teaching Aragorn and guiding him on a journey to become a worthy man? Elrond, for taking a young boy in, naming him Estel and raising him like a son? Arwen, again, for spending all of Estel's childhood years in Lothlorien, not becoming an aunt or a sister-figure but later becoming a lover? No one envied Elrond's position, torn between his beloved daughter and the foster-son he loved more than any of the other heirs he helped raise. There was little they could do now, knowing Arwen had made her choice regardless of Elrond's decree that she would only wed a mortal man if he was both King of Gondor and Anor. Yet here they all stood, on the very brink of Aragorn's fate, with the possible kingship in the future. They only had to save the Free Peoples from the shadow first.

Elrohir found himself laughing, laughing to the point of tears. The looks he received from Erestor and Elladan only caused him to laugh harder. Elrohir settled down, a few last tears escaping with the last giggles. He said, "It is odd to think that all we have learned, all we have taught Estel, all of it comes down to this simple thing."

"The journey to one's true self is never a simple thing, Elrohir." Erestor said.

"And how many have had this important of a task to complete on that journey?" Elladan asked. "Estel, just has to be a little show-off doesn't he?" The eldest son of Elrond hoped off the window sill and walked toward the door-way. Tapping Elrohir on the shoulder he said, "I am going to see Rian, tell me when we are ready to leave."

Elrohir waved his brother off and moved to the pile of clothing, checking for holes and patches of worn fabric. "So," he said looking at Erestor, "all your Ages of service on the council and the best solution you can come up with is give it to Tom Bombadil knowing he'd have no reason to take it? And you let Glorfindel look smarter than you?"

"Strategy, dear Elrohir." Erestor said, "The men of the South hardly trust me, or any councilor after Morwen's long and detailed tirade on their reproductive practices forty years ago. They are warriors who trust warriors, and Glorfindel's face and reputation are well known. I daresay they'd take his word over Elrond's."

"I wonder if they will trust Aragorn. The people of Rohan knew him once, as did the people of Gondor." Elrohir said.

"The people of Gondor often forget their own history, too caught up in the glory to remember the truth. They like to be the figure-heads for the Free Peoples, but they forget how much others have sacrificed. Aragorn was well within his rights to scold Boromir for forgetting all that the Rangers of the North have done." Erestor approached Elrohir and patted his shoulder. "I do not think you will find any more fault with your supplies, Elrohir. It is time for you to ride out again."

Elrohir stood, stretching his body before starting to pack again. "I am afraid to admit this, but I am starting to grow tired." Elrohir whispered.

"There will be rest in your future, Elrohir." Erestor said. "Just remember how you would feel if you could not ride out, and if there was no need to do so." Erestor opened his ledger again, "Now where were we? Ah, yes, 'Phrases Not to Speak in the Presence of Woodland Peasants.'"

Elrohir nodded in acceptance of the words, and let the familiar cadence of Erestor's voice guide him into his packing routine.

* * *

_**November, TA 3018, The Old Road**_

They had been on the road for a month and the end of the harvest season long past. Aragorn was due to part with them tomorrow, taking up with the Rangers for a fortnight before returning to Imladris. Elladan and Elrohir still had to journey to Caras Galadhon with their travel reports. By all accounts, the defenses of the Golden Wood and Mirkwood would have to strengthen. It left both realms in a conundrum; Lothlorien had the numbers but not the skill, while Mirkwood had an abundance of skill, but not the numbers. Lothlorien sentries fought off a few wayward enemies each year while Mirkwood had been in a constant battle for centuries. An alliance would work best, but every elf on Arda knew how unlikely that was to happen. Galadriel and Thranduil were proud rulers and their Grandmother was wrong in thinking her power and her elven ring could save her from everything.

Elrohir stepped out of his tent, nose picking up the scent of fire. He searched the area to find Aragorn burning a small fire near an over hanging rock ledge, the Ranger's dark clothing blending with the shadows. It was Elladan's turn to find food for the night.

"I wonder what Elladan will bring us." Elrohir said, taking a seat beside Aragorn.

Aragorn shrugged, face hidden by his hood.

Elrohir patted Aragorn's shoulder. "I do not know if I have ever seen a man on so great a brink so utterly dejected."

"There is no great brink. I will help those of my distant kin." Aragorn murmured, pulling out his pipe.

Elrohir smiled at Aragorn's actions, ones that normally sent inquisitive elves in the other direction. Elrohir and Elladan were both immune to the smell of pipe-weed after all their years of riding with the Rangers. Elrohir leaned back against the rock and poked at the fire. He asked Aragorn, "And your birthright?"

"What of it?"

"Do you not also go to fulfill it, or at least try to?" Elrohir asked.

Aragorn shrugged again. "The hobbit has a greater quest." He said.

"The hobbit is much like you." Elrohir mused. "So full of doubt."

"That worries you?" Aragorn asked, fire from the pipe lighting up his face.

Elrohir wondered for a moment when little Estel began to look so old. He answered, "Not at all. I would worry if you had no doubt. Doubt guides you as much as instinct. Doubt can make a plan as sure as knowledge and tactical lessons. How often do we fall back on the doubt filled plans to save the day? Doubt has been a constant companion in my life and it has gotten me this far."

"I am not the strong one to do this, nor the brave one." Aragorn insisted.

"Knowing what is out there and what you have to fear—and doing it anyway, doing it of your own will—that is strength, Estel. That is bravery, Aragorn."

"Your father said something similar to me." Aragorn admitted.

"He wants you to succeed. He has the utmost confidence in your abilities, Estel. He may not say it, but you must know how proud he is of you and what you have become and the hope for what you will be." Elrohir said.

"Though it costs him dearly." Aragorn said.

"One way or another, Arwen would be lost to him." Elrohir said. "I must confess, I always thought she would die on this land. She loves Arda too much to leave its shores and I do not know if she could live in Aman where she would be nothing but the youngest child of Elrond, a forgotten she-elf in the midst of so many others. My sister is made to be a queen, knows how to rule, she would never get that chance over there."

Aragorn blew a smoke-ring. "They say the same about you."

"Elladan has the birthright to rule. As for me? Well, I may one day spend all my time drawing trees and writing poems and thinking little of errantry." Elrohir said.

"You could never live such a quiet life." Aragorn said.

"Ah, but it is nice to dream." Elrohir said.

Elladan came back into the clearing, carrying two male turkeys behind him.

Elrohir groaned, just imagining how long it would take to pluck all the feathers, not to even mention the roasting.

"Turkeys, Elladan, really?" Elrohir asked.

"Male turkeys too, more feathers." Aragorn muttered. "Harder and longer work."

"We cannot all go around killing stags to feed hobbits." Elladan muttered. "Look, it was either this or rabbits, what do you prefer?"

"I'd take the rabbit." Aragorn said, standing up. "I'll go get the knives."

"Good man." Elladan said, sitting down beside Elrohir. "Those are some hard birds to catch. Have you ever seen them fly?"

"Many times, Elladan, which is why they only tend to be killed for feasts and not for game on the road." Elrohir answered.

"It gave you more time to talk with Estel, did it not?" Elladan asked. "That was my plan after all."

"Was it?" Elrohir asked.

Elladan scoffed, "Of course, do you believe I would chase after turkeys for no other reason? There was a flock of geese I could have caught up with three hours ago."

"I have gauged Aragorn's state of mind to a degree which will satisfy our grandmother." Elrohir said.

"And what of our father?" Elladan asked.

"He will have his own things to say to Aragorn." Elrohir turned to his twin. "And what will you say to him?"

"If he breaks my little sister's heart but getting himself killed I will have him raised from the dead and killed again." Elladan said.

Elrohir nodded, "Good advice."

Aragorn paused in the sharpening of his knives to watch the two elves as they clutched their sides and dissolved into laughter.

* * *

_**December, TA 3018, Imladris **_

Elrohir was still caked with the mud from the road. His hair was a clumped and curly mass, the snow flakes from earlier still melting on his clothes. He envied Elladan who was surely reveling in a warm bath right now and not for the first time did Elrohir wonder why his father demanded this meeting when he only paced in front of the dark windows.

Elladan and Elrohir were the last messengers to return. Their father was ready to send out his Nine Walkers to engage against the Nine Nazgul and waited only for the return of the twins with their news from the other elven realms. Mirkwood gave their support but Lothlorien was still suspicions, sating they may open up their borders for the travelers depending on what was to come.

Elrond's back was stiff, his hands clenched as he stared out into the darkness. "We will all be challenged by the coming times, the change, the outcome, it will be bigger than any of us conceive, could even wish or despair over. I know you will be required to fight along side the Free Peoples, as I once did, your brother-bonds with Aragorn and the Dunedain could result in nothing else."

Elrond approached Elrohir, a letter in his hands, the wax seal old and color faded, but the seal still holding. He held the letter out to Elrohir. "It is time for you to read this."

Elrohir took the letter, his finger tips running over his name on the outside. The writing still familiar after all this time. With trembling fingers, he broke the wax seal, the curled C, entwined with a running river crumbling beneath his fingers.

_My son, _

I am not certain when this letter will come into your hands. I trust your father to know when that time is near. Whether it comes to you a month after my writing, or a century, I am certain little will have changed with you, my beloved child. You do have a talent, my Elrohir, to stay the same while the world changes around you. Yet I know things will come on you fast and with a vengeance, leaving you confused and gasping in pain from their swift attacks. I will not be there to guide you or comfort you then and I can only hope these few lines I write will give you strength when you find yourself wanting. 

_  
You are wise beyond your years even in the matter of your own heart. I know, as I have known for years, you are left with a question in your soul. I see even now, especially now, how vengeance burns within you. Elrohir, do not let your doubt and bloodlust consume you. You are too rare a soul and too precious to me to become ruled by a darker nature. You have both compassion and ruthlessness in you, as all elves do, do not let what happened to me lead you down an ever-darkening road. I am alive, Elrohir, and though I will bear the marks of my attack for the rest of time, I find myself on the brink of something greater. We all have our scars, our wounds, our hurts and they serve to remind us that at one time we were weak but we have survived and are now stronger. I feel myself healing, Elrohir, and I know the only way to true health is to leave these shores. I cannot tell your brother or your sister, but this I believe I can confide in you. You understand, my dear child, the need to follow where you will. _

_  
I know that death is not an uncommon occurrence for you and you have been the cause of another's end more than once. Sometimes I blame your father for your loss of innocence at such a young age. I wanted to raise all of you in Lothlorien, but even then Imladris was the more well-protected of the two. Do not let the reputation of the Golden Wood and of my parents fool you; Galadriel may be the wisest of them all but Elrond is the most powerful. I pray you will have no reason to know just how powerful. Watch out for him, Elrohir. Your father has a tendency to believe he can save everyone and everything if he only tries hard enough. Do not let him weaken himself and bring himself to the step of Mandos' door in your father's bid for atonement. One day he will realize that the fault of Gil-galad's death and the fall of the Numenoreans is not his own. Make sure your brother discovers his senses again; love is too precious and too rare to throw away in a fit of anger and panic. Keep him stable, Elrohir, keep him sane. Your brother has a capacity for anger larger than your own. And Arwen, our little Arwen, I fear she will do what she will, no matter the cost. Just be there for her, Elrohir, as long as you find you can. _

_  
As for you, my youngest son, these words I have to say. You have a choice to make, my Elrohir, much like your brother and sister, much like your father once did. Do not let their decisions weigh on yours, Elrohir, you must make the choice that is best for you. Either way there will be regret, the reasons why are which you must decide. Know that true happiness is fleeting in every life, no matter the span, and anywhere you go there will be struggle and there will be love. Love is not easy Elrohir, no matter the people involved. To try for love means to sacrifice something, whether that be your immortal life or all the allies you have on Arda to sail west, a sacrifice is always required. _

_  
Cirdan's bell tolls and the gulls are calling. I must finish this letter now. If Morwen follows my instructions, and if your father heeds my wishes, then this will come to you when you need it most. Know that I love you, my son, and that you are always with me. No matter how you choose, I am sure we will meet again, if in person or in dreams, the outcome remains to be seen. But what is life, but the mystery and the journey that comes with it.  
All my love and all my blessings, _

Mother 

He closed the letter, swearing a faint hint of lilies still rested in the paper, his mother's scent mingled with her words. Elrohir raised his eyes to his father's face, uncaring of the tears he felt trailing down his cheeks. "Thank you," Elrohir whispered, "I needed that."

Elrond held his son's face between his hands. He pressed a kiss to Elrohir's forehead. "I know." The warm lips murmured against the clammy forehead. "Now, let us get you into some dry clothes. I need your help in deciding if the last members of a group of walkers are the correct ones."

Elrohir nodded, but held onto his father for a moment longer. Talk of war could wait, right now Elrohir needed a reminder of the security of childhood, when everything could be resolved by the feel of his father's arms.

* * *

The sun was setting, cold winter air blowing through the clearing. Elrohir raised a hand in farewell as a group of males, representing all races of the Free Peoples of Arda, began the long journey. For some it was to Mordor, to others it was Gondor, and to Gimli the dwarf and Legolas, Thranduil's son, it was towards home. Knowing the average outcome of Aragorn's adventures, and Mithrandir's for that matter, Elrohir was certain the plans of the whole fellowship would change numerous times before they all reached their final goals.

Elrohir heard a sniffling by his side. On his right stood Eluialeth and Arwen, both with eyes to the horizon. Eluialeth stood stoic, standing on her tip toes to watch the vanishing bodies. Arwen was also quiet, a look of both sadness and hope on her face. Elrohir looked to the left and found Morwen standing with her arms crossed, one hand pressed over her lips.

Elrohir turned to Morwen, eyes wide and jaw dropped. "Are you crying?"

Morwen sniffed, "No."

"You are! You are crying." Elrohir insisted.

"It's just.." Morwen stopped, wiping a hand over her eyes. "It is our little Estel, out there leading a company of his own, and…I am." Morwen sniffed again. "I am just so proud. So proud."

"You are a very odd she-elf." Elrohir muttered, placing an arm around Morwen's waist. "You are supposed to stand stoic and strong as the males ride off to battle."

"I do, just not when I helped raise them." Morwen gestured to the shape of Aragorn disappearing into the dusk. "I remember when he was so tiny and playing with his wooden soldiers and stabbing Glorfindel in the foot with their little metal swords. And remember that time he painted the office in Elrond's study blue? I laughed for hours while he insisted Elrond needed to be reminded of the sea."

"We all must grow-up some time." Elrohir said, guiding Morwen back inside.

They walked at a slow pace, other elves hurrying past them to continue on with their daily lives. Elrohir and Morwen stopped to study Arwen, still standing and watching. She was alone now and though the sky was darkening and the wind turning colder, she did not move.

"Should I?" Elrohir asked.

Morwen studied Arwen for some time. Finally she shook her head. "Leave her be for now but tonight, you must speak with her."

"I could speak to her of many things…" Elrohir said.

Morwen whispered, "_Cabbages and Kings_"

"Did I tell you I read a letter tonight?" Elrohir asked, passing under the last threshold before the stone ceiling welcomed them inside.

"Who was it from?" Morwen asked.

Elrohir turned to Morwen and smiled, "My mother."

* * *

Arwen's bedroom was flooded with moonlight. Her balcony doors were opened wide, dying leaves trailed across the stone floor. Out in the night, the valley was alive in song, almost defiant in their joy, taunting the Nazgul who came so close to the borders.

"You did not come to the Hall." Elrohir said. Arwen's absence was well noted that night, rumors and theories running wild.

"I had other things to ponder." Arwen titled her head to the night sky, She pointed to Earendil's star. "Do you think he is really up there watching over us?"

"Mithrandir swears it is so." Elrohir said, sitting beside her sister. "Cirdan and Glorfindel both concur."

"Do you think mother knows about my decision?" Arwen asked.

Elrohir was honest, "If not now, she will. Soon. The annals will be sent out in a few months."

Arwen's laugh was bitter. "One-way messages, how do we know she gets them? How do we even know if she is alive?"

"We believe it and we feel it and our father swears it." Elrohir paused. "Arwen.."

"I do not want her to think I made this choice out of anger; rejecting her where she rejected me." Arwen said.

Elrohir protested, "She did not.."

"It felt like that at the time." Arwen confessed. "Sometimes, it still does. She just left. It was her choice, as this is mine."

Elrohir grasped her shoulders, "Arwen, mother left so she could live. You made a choice to love and to be your own person, I do believe, existing outside of the shadows of our family. If things go according to the plans of the Wise, you will be behind no one else but Estel. A public figure rather than a hidden treasure."

"And your choice, Elrohir?" Arwen asked.

Elrohir gazed at the brightest start in the sky. "My choice?" Elrohir asked. "That is mine to make."

A/N 1: Many things here reference other stories, such as "Darkness and Diamonds." The next and last part of this story will contain major spoilers for the rest of the story arc, and will be confusing if you have not read any of the "Miles to Go" stories/spoilers on the writing livejournal. The update for last week was a special harvest story called "Under the Hunter's Moon" which can also be found on the writing lj as well.

A/N 2: The line "Cabbages and Kings" belongs to Lewis Carroll and can be found in "Through the Looking Glass" in the story of the Walrus and the Carpenter:  
_"The time has come," the Walrus said, _

"To talk of many things:

Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--

Of cabbages--and kings--

And why the sea is boiling hot--

And whether pigs have wings." 


	4. Heart is Home Part 1

_**Disclaimer: See Previous**_

_**Words of a Sermon No One Can Hear**_

_Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no-one will hear, _

No-one comes near

Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there,

What does he care?

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?

All the lonely people, where do they all belong? 

-The Beatles, "Eleanor Rigby"

_**Part Four: Heart is Home**_

**Part One**

_**Fourth Age, Aman**_

_But tonight we'll be free, all the promises'll be broken _

There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away

They haunt this dusty beach road

In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets

They scream your name at night in the street

Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet

And in the lonely cool before dawn

you hear their engines roaring on

But when you get to the porch they're gone

On the wind, so Mary climb in

It's a town full of losers and I'm pulling out of here to win. 

-Bruce Springsteen, "Thunder Road"

The rope burned beneath his hands as his pulled hard, tightening the sails against the winds. He could have worn gloves, most elves did, but Elrohir needed the rope burn and the marks it left to still feel alive, or rather to remind himself that he was living. Out of all the futures he had envisioned working on the sea was not part of them. After Elrohir's first full decade on Aman, Ornu of the Teleri approached him, asking if the grandson of Earendil the Mariner would gift the Teleri with a ride out to Sea. Having found himself lost in the doldrums of life for ten years, while everyone about him experienced changed, had made the chance to sail seem like salvation. Over twenty years after taking the chance, Elrohir never found a day of regret. They never sailed far away from the coast, and were gone a year at most.

Ornu explained the Teleri were more aware than the other elf races that the increasing population would require an increase in occupation. The Woodland elves, largely unknown to Aman before the latter half of the Third Age, were bound to find some connection to the sea and their Teleri cousins. They were elves bound so long to the earth and so far from the sea, that the waters held a mystery and an allure that could not be quenched.

"Most have forgotten her song." Ornu whispered from his side, standing with eyes closed and head raised to the wind. "The Teleri live for it, but the Noldor and the Sindar ignore the shores these days, pulling into the land and cutting themselves off from the wild waves. There are exceptions, as always, but I feel even the Valar know they cannot keep everyone chained to the land and uncharted islands are out there."

"I do not believe we would stand for it anyway, being forced to stay." Elrohir whispered. He scratched at his arm, skin itching with the salt from the sea.

Ornu leaned against the ship, sun shining off his white hair, "Do you ever think to follow in your grandfather's stead?"

"Which grandfather?" Elrohir asked, feeling the natural smirk spread across his lips. "I was trained to be a diplomat and a warrior. One could say I followed in the footsteps of my mother's father."

"For a time, yes," Ornu agreed, "but you are neither warrior nor diplomat now."

"Oh, I disagree," Elrohir laughed, "you must come to one of the family dinners. I am quite the mediator and diplomat between the relatives."

"You are a bit of trouble, are you not, Elrohir son of Elrond?" Ornu asked.

"You are just realizing this?" Elrohir asked, pushing off from his perch and making his way below deck. Ornu's laughter followed him.

Elrohir closed his eyes as bright sunlight transitioned into the weak beams coming through the cracks in the wood and the elven lamps hanging from the rafters. He made his way over to his hammock, pulling his pouch from a free hook and taking out his journal. When he was younger, still eager to be out on the hunt and enamored of the world, Elrohir never understood why Glorfindel insisted on taking a blank journal with him. Glorfindel had tried to explain the need to find both release in the writing and to satisfy the desire to render something forever on the page, be it words or in pictures. Elrohir took to following his habit as his rides into the Wild extended longer and farther. When all of Arda was embroiled in the battle for its freedom, he had not found the time to write down his words, not wanting his possible last thoughts and fears left on record for someone else to find. He had taken to drawing his memories and his feelings; the sketch of a dying tree saying more than words could to explain the pain of a burning forest.

His sketches now were not just of what he saw on the water, but sketched memories of a home that could be defined only in memory and spirit. The dark charcoal smudged his skin and settled into his fingernails as he again traced the familiar face of his sister, forever young and happy in his mind. Fingertips traced the contours of her face, outlined her hair, and Elrohir smiled knowing that some memories, like some storms on the sea, were not always bad.

* * *

"The sailor sees fit to join us again!" Elladan exclaimed, pushing an elfling into Elrohir's arms.  
"It is good to know you have not forgotten the way home."

"Depends on what home you speak of," Elrohir answered, resting his newest nephew against his hip. "I have many homes here."

Elladan tapped the back of his head, "I am your brother, mine rates higher than the others."

"Even our parents?" Elrohir asked.

"Well, perhaps they rate a tad higher." Elladan admitted.

"Where are the twins?" Elrohir asked, putting Ionaur down.

"Last I checked Olwen and Gweston were leading my children on the path to the dark side." Elladan sighed, "Why Nordithen and Tithenauriel cannot find good and proper elves to emulate I will never know."

"Oh, so good and proper as yourself?" Elrohir asked. "Besides, Olwen and Gweston are the eldest, and Nordithen follows whatever his older sister does and since Tithenauriel follows in the steps of the twins, what else do you expect?"

"They write stories and compose songs." Elladan murmured. "Little interest in learning the spear or the sword. Oh no, it is all about daggers and bows."

"You only protest so much because they run to Tirnion for lessons rather than you." Elrohir said, placing a hand on Ionaur's head and guiding him.

"I am a perfectly good teacher!" Elladan yelped.

"And you are the father and the uncle, respectively, and have been around them more often than Tirnion has, what with setting up the Greenwood Legacy." Elrohir said. "You are too familiar and I am sure when the time comes to learn the sword they will turn to Ecthelion, but will seek you out for extra-practice lessons." Elrohir watched Ionaur run to his mother, Rian waving at them from the boundaries of her land, speaking with a neighbor. "Elladan, why do you not attempt to teach them some other lesson? Glorfindel teaches them in woodworking, Rog in metallurgy, Lindir and Ecthelion in music, Eluialeth and Morwen for politics and history."

"And all other lessons are covered," Elladan said, kicking out rocks on the path, "you take care of the drawing and the penmanship when you are home."

"Art cannot be forced and some still have too small a grip to yield a quill properly. The twins do not, but that is because they are older than the others." Elrohir said.

Elladan turned his face to the sky and smiled, "Ah, so young at fifty. Remember how we were at that age?"

"We thought ourselves so close to majority, and yet I think we were compared to the children now. Tithenauriel is but two years behind and still so much younger." Elrohir mused.

Elladan nodded, "Father has a similar theory. There is not the rush for elves to grow older so quickly anymore. They are calling it something like 'the lingering childhood' or 'elfling lingers' or some other ridiculous term they can write down in the records. Honestly, we need to finish building all our homes if only to exert some sort of political power and give all the councilors something to do."

"Greenwood Legacy will do nothing until Thranduil arrives and will not even think of exerting anymore influence until Legolas comes to the shores." Elrohir swallowed, "Father will do nothing until he has felt Arwen leave the world."

Elladan fell silent, contemplating the inevitable loss of their sister. The knowledge of her coming end was not so hard to bear as the waiting for it to occur.

"Will you be staying with us?" Elladan asked, taking one of his brother's packs.

"I had planned to stay with Morwen but I can spare a night or two here." Elrohir said.

"Ah yes, you and Morwen and your grand scheme to make our little realm respectable in the eyes of all the people we scorn." Elladan said. "Is that the reason for the dinner party Morwen has bemoaned for the past three months?"

Elrohir ducked his head, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You planned to still be out at sea, did you not?" Elladan asked, bumping his twin's shoulder with his own.

"Possibly." Elrohir answered, pushing back.

"Definitely." Elladan answered for his brother. He tapped a hand against Elrohir's face. "Are you going to shave that dreadful excuse for a beard off ?"

Elrohir scratched at his chin and shrugged, "If Olwen screams when she sees me, yes. If she goes about her day barely noticing, no."

Elladan shook his head, "It amazes me that you still use her reactions to your beards to decide whether or not they are fit for company."

"You make Morwen and Glorfindel's children cry and see if you ever dare to do it again." Elrohir walked up the familiar path to Elladan's home. The walkway was decorated with various wooden, metal, and stone creations. They were creations of the children's hands and Elladan did not have the heart to destroy any of them. Having run out of room in the home's gallery, Rian had suggested the move outside. It always made Elrohir smile to see the proof of Elladan and Rian's pride in their children.

Elladan spied his brother's smile and slung an arm around his shoulder. "Welcome home, Elrohir." He said, guiding his brother into the house.

* * *

A week in his brother's home was all Elrohir could endure before he fled to Glorfindel and Morwen's ever expanding estate. Every time he returned from a journey, another associate of the couple was making his or her home either in the house or on the land. A wandering group of Gildor's followers had built a permanent camp of sorts in the woods separating their lands from Celebrian and Elrond's. Various members of was once the House of the Golden Flower in Gondolin kept finding excuse to make their own new homes on Glorfindel's lands. Scribes more loyal to Morwen than any other elf had also found a home there.

While his room in Morwen's house was the closest thing Elrohir had to a true home it came with the unfortunate price of dealing with all of Glorfindel's friends from his lifetimes. It also meant Elrohir was often beleaguered with invitations for lunch with said friends' eligible cousins, sisters, daughters, and in one memorable case a widowed mother. At least Ecthelion was in the same situation, though the elf had escaped the most recent round of parties headed to his parent's house far away from the city. He was due back for tonight's main event and Elrohir thanked the Valar again and again for that.

Currently the gathered group of grown elves were debating whether or not Elrohir should align himself in a match with Ecthelion's sister, Minuialeth. Morwen had left the room an hour ago, claiming need to attend to her children. Elrohir wished he had such an excuse. Glorfindel had fled a half-hour later stating he must help his wife in some house-hold manners. Elrohir was contemplating ways to end his own life with his hair. He sighed and shifted in his seat as the elves again try to argue for Minuialeth.

"She is beautiful." Penlod stated.

"She is Ecthelion's sister." Rog argued, as if being such a thing meant she was forbidden.

"She is intelligent." Penlod insisted, patting Elrohir on the hand as if he was an elfling.

"Yes, but she is Ecthelion's sister." Rog repeated.

"And he will kill you." Miluion said.

"As will Turgon and Tuor." Galdor of the Tree offered.

"And your mother." Rog added.

"Has it occurred to anyone that I am not yet ready to enter into another courtship?" Elrohir hissed, his good nature abandoning him.

"Now, now Elrohir," Miluion said, "it may be time for you to try and move on. I just do not think it should be Ecthelion's sister. She is far too respectable for such a thing."

"And I am not?" Elrohir scoffed. "May I remind you I am a lord's son?"

"Youngest son." Penlod said. "And therefore removed from duty and expected to be a little eccentric."

"The beard really does not help matters in that regard," Rog said as he scratched his face, "though I am thinking of growing one myself."

"Your wife will disown you." Galdor of the Tree said.

"I'm surprised she hasn't yet." Elrohir muttered, staring longingly at the window and the freedom of outside.

"We are merely concerned for you, young Elrohir," Penlod said, "it is not healthy for a young and strapping elf such as yourself to be so alone."

"It is Elrohir's decision as to when and where and with whom he will move on." Tuor stated from the door.

Elrohir jumped up, eager to give the man his seat. "Thank you, Tuor, it is good to see one of you has sense. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be off."

"With what?" Rog demanded.

"I have young elflings to teach and former councilors to coddle and I promised Idril I'd have a sketch done and framed for her before the end of this week."

"You also promised her a dance tonight," Tuor said, "do not forget this time." He shook a finger at Elrohir. "Now go off and enjoy yourself and leave the gossip to us ancient folk."

Elrohir was no fool and, with eager steps, ran from the study.

In the years Elrohir had lived on Aman, he had watched more and more additions added to the house of Glorfindel and Morwen. Different artistic and architectural styles ran through the house, depending on which elves were hired to construct the new rooms and levels. It was the sort of piece-work way of living that Elrohir had always associated with both Morwen and Glorfindel, two elves who spread themselves out over time and land and who found a sort of family wherever they went. Two elves who felt deep ties and loyalty to so many different elves and who had come together in a love story that was romantic, tragic, destined and, at the end of it all, humorous.

Elrohir could not deny that he longed to find someone so perfect in balancing his own wants and needs, but he could make do with absorbing the care and emotion that boiled over from Morwen and Glorfindel. The decades he spent posing as Morwen's lover, protecting her and Glorfindel from those who would see them parted by nothing less than death, were the memories that kept him going when despair and loneliness clawed at him. It was an interesting thing to be sure, finding out that the person you always saw as a sister, or your brother's best friend, could become so much a part of you. If asked, Elrohir would admit to loving Morwen now than he had during their childhood, but it was not romantic love, nor was it sibling love. It was something in between, something deep and reaching, something that he was sure Tirnion felt the same in regards to Morwen. Something he was equally certain Glorfindel and Ecthelion felt for each other, his father for Gil-galad, Gildor for Elrond, Haldir for Galadriel and Celeborn. It was love wrought from the hard times, dark days, and the shairing of one's soul on a more intimate level than a body could be shared. That love, the one Elrohir was starting to finally feel for Glorfindel and had felt for ages towards the twins, was the reason Elrohir saw this ever-expanding house as a home.

Running up the southwest staircase, smiling as the stairs began to curve and turn up into a tower, an honor to Elwing and Earendil, Elrohir knocked on the door to Gweston's music room.  
The young-elf was Lindir's star pupil and whenever he played Lindir had to excuse himself to 'remove the piece of dirt stuck in his watering eyes.' Lindir was hopeful Gweston would start creating his own musical compositions but Gweston had insisted that before he created a song, he must first create all the instruments used. The flute was easy enough, a simply witling of wood. Gweston, being the difficult child of his parents, insisted that he make everything first in wood (to imagine how the first elves made such things) and then in metal (to appreciate how far elves have come). Last time he was on land, Gweston had just finished his first tin pipe and was moving towards a brass mold.

He knocked on the door, marveling as always over the intricately carved wooden images. Glorfindel had spent hours working on this little project after Gweston declared he wanted to become a minstrel. It was proof that no matter how much other elves might pressure Gweston to follow in his footsteps, Glorfindel would always be proud of and support his son in the gift of music.

"Enter." Gweston called.

Elrohir pushed open the door and smiled at his young nephew. He was still growing into his long limbs and had been towering over his mother for the past ten years. "Gweston, how goes your instrument construction?"

Gweston smiled, bright eyes alight, and held up a wooden frame with varying string lengths wrapped around it. "I am working on a harp now. It is quite difficult, but I am determined."

"Would not a lap harp be easier to construct?" Elrohir asked.

Gweston pointed to a roughly made lap harp propped up against the wall. "I was going to make a metal one, but Lindir informed me that most are made out of wood anyway. I still need to construct one with a smoother wood and metal pinings for some woven metal and fabric strings."

Elrohir sat down beside the young elf, "Are you going to play at the dinner party tonight?"

"Father decided it would be best if I did not perform tonight. Something about Mother's nerves not able to take all the inquiries about my marriage status from the she-elves of the city." Gweston shrugged, "I prefer playing fast-dancing and folk songs anyway. I do not understand why the songs for the dinner parties must be so dreadful. I am eager to try out the songs Mr. Frodo and Mr. Sam taught me. Mr. Bilbo will be asleep, I imagine."

"Yes, our dear old Bilbo is not much for nighttime parties anymore." Elrohir agreed.

"How long will you be home?" Gweston asked.

Elrohir smiled, "A half-year. Why do you ask?"

"We miss you when you are gone," Gweston said, "Mother most of all. With Uncle Tirnion so busy and Grandfather Erestor teaching all his students, she has few people to spend time with."

Elrohir laughed, remembering Erestor's face the first time the twins decided he was their grandfather. In all his years of knowing Erestor, Elrohir had never seen such a warm look pass his face, not even when holding his grandchildren of blood from Galueth and Orophin's union. Elrohir patted Gweston's shoulder, "Your mother has plenty of people to spend time with. My parents, your Uncle Elladan and Aunt Rian. Aunt Eluialeth when she is not helping in the construction of Greenwood Legacy. Your father."

"I do not think Father always understands what Mother says or is feeling." Gweston observed. "He is comfortable here, with all his family and friends from his lives. Mother," Gweston pulled tight on one of the strings of the harp, "I think she sometimes feels out of place in her own home." Gweston looked up at him, eyes wide, "She does not feel so when you are here. I think you remind her of her home on Arda."

Elrohir pressed a kiss to the top of Gweston's head and hugged his shoulders, attempting to assuage his fears. His insights were quite amazing for an elf so young, but Gweston had a sharp set of eyes and an empathy only found in the best of healers. He was correct, which almost hurt even more in consideration. Elrohir too had seen moments when Morwen second-guessed her actions in this house and among its guests. He could not imagine it, trying to fit into a life her husband had two whole Ages before she was born. The indignity of having to meet the old long-term lovers and useless flings of a once young warrior. Having to face the fact that no matter how much she loved her spouse, there was a time when he was not so perfect and caring, more concerned with the shallower aspects of life and the society she always found the need to mock. Having always been a child of the gifted and wealthy class, even Elrohir felt himself wanting among Glorfindel and his fellows when they gathered the former High-Kings and legends around them. Not often, but sometimes, such feelings could not be helped. Still, if Gweston was sensing such things then Elrohir needed to have a talking to with poor Morwen and Glorfindel. Especially Glorfindel, since Morwen probably knew to present him with a perfect mask and tell him the pretty lies that would make his concerns fade.

"I will talk with your mother, Gweston," Elrohir promised, "and I swear she will be full of laughter the next time I leave. Do not worry for her, I think your mother has just been nervous with all the up-coming festivities."

"Annoyed with them is the more proper term." Gweston said. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course, Gweston." Elrohir replied.

"How do you stop all the she-elves from asking you to dance?"

Elrohir laughed out loud. "Oh, my dear nephew, that is a lesson you must learn on your own. I fear I paid my own dues with such a manner. It is a price one must pay for being born in such company. Consider it a compliment to your talents and family."

"Does it ever stop?" Gweston asked.

Elrohir smirked, "Not until you are wed, and sometimes not even then."

Gweston blinked and stared at Elrohir for a moment before asking, "Why are you not married?"

"I have not met the right elf." Elrohir answered.

"Do you think you ever will?" Gweston inquired.

"I certainly hope so." Elrohir said.

Gweston nodded and turned back to his harp. He sighed and said, "Olwen says she will marry Uncle Ecthelion."

"And what do you think?" Elrohir asked.

Gweston looked up from his work, a devilish grin on his face reminiscent of his father, "I think she is correct."

A knock on the door drew their attention and both turned to greet the new visitor.

"Gweston, have you seen," Morwen said, "Oh, there you are, Elrohir. I heard you went running out of the study as if a balrog was behind you."

"Worse," Elrohir said, "a group of gossiping old warriors and Miluion."

"A dangerous group, to be sure." Morwen agreed. She smiled down at her son, "I see you have made quite some progress with the new harp. I wish I could allow you the time to finish it before sundown, but your father is demanding your presence for archery lessons."

"Must I?" Gweston asked, sparing a pleading look for his mother.

"I am afraid so," Morwen smiled, "only two hours and then I will rescue you."

"Oh, thank you." Gweston breathed. He stood up and brushed off his hands, walking out of the room as he father began to bellow for him.

Elrohir turned to Morwen and studied her as she stood at the window and watched her husband and children in the small training yard behind the house.

"Your son worries for you." He whispered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Over what?" Morwen asked.

"Your unease with all the elves of old coming and going from this house and all the society elves." Elrohir pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Have you forgotten you were once the most fierce critics of them?"

"But there are so many more of them now," Morwen protested, "and I am quite out of practice."

"You know you may yell at me for resting on the laurels of my birthright whenever you desire." Elrohir said.

"That is the only problem, you do not rest. You work." Morwen said.

"Only because Father would never has his sons be idle, as he worked all his young life as well." Elrohir said. "Yes, my father's family does have a bit of sense about them."

"More than a bit." Morwen muttered. "And I do not take offense with any from Gondolin."

Elrohir snorted, "With the exception of few she-elves still trying to push you out of the marriage bed."

"Well, yes." Morwen agreed. "His parents still make me feel at ill ease as well. My parents do that. My brother I can tolerate."

"One would hope so as he is here." Elrohir said.

"My sister looks at me with nothing but scorn in her eyes." Morwen said.

"She is in love with an elf she believes is in love with you," Elrohir said, "and she has lived all her life under your shadow."

"It is not my fault she believes all the gossip about Haldir and myself." Morwen shook her head, "How anyone can _want_ to be with such an.."

"Morwen," Elrohir warned, "be fair. He does have many fair qualities and did punch Curunir that one time for you." Elrohir tapped her head, "Besides, if you despise him so much, why were you the first to insist he survived his wounds at Helm's Deep?"

Morwen raised her head, a smirk on her face, "As I said then and repeat now, No elf that insufferable, miserable, and stubborn could just die. If Estel had his sense about him during the battle, he would have realized such a thing." Morwen sniffed, "Besides, I figured nursing him back to his horrid state of being was just rewards for handling Curunir."

"I hope you do not plan to spend this night biting on your tongue and fighting your natural spirit," Elrohir said, "for if you do I must insist on leaving."

"I will have to bite my tongue for some of it," Morwen said, moving them toward the door, "for much as I loathe to admit it we need some 'respectable' support to be formally recognized by the High Council."

"Our family connections only go so far, I take it?" Elrohir asked while they descended the stairs.

"It helps having someone not of the immediate family behind us. It is hope that Minuialeth will soon put her support behind New Imladris and Greenwood Legacy. She has enough friends in the city to gain more influence and her connections to both your mother and Glorfindel will help us."

"The High Council is not so wary of my parents or Glorfindel, but rather _us._" Elrohir observed.

"Precisely." Morwen said. "We are still unknown to them. It seems if one was born in the Third Age he or she is still too young to know anything. Despite the fact we have more than proven ourselves in comparison to the others."

"Is that why the Lords of Gondolin are so eager to match us together? They think me courting Minuialeth will do some good? Do they know my disastrous history in the matter?" Elrohir asked.

"Glorfindel and I have tried to tell them, but they will not listen." Morwen gave his face an affectionate pat. "But I am certain it has more to do with the questions she always asks about you. You have intrigued her, you see, ever since you feel asleep near the water's edge at Elrond's home. Your time away from her company and your habit for sailing out to sea has only intrigued her more."

"And this makes me something attractive?" Elrohir asked, brow raised in a gesture of his father's.

"All females like an elf who is a mystery and reminds them of none of their other male relations. Who else would she become attached to in our circle?" Morwen asked.

Elrohir pushed open the doors to the yard and said, "Galdor. Or rather, our Galdor. One of Thalion's sons?"

Morwen shook her head, "Her first attempt to seek a relationship with a Teleri was with Tholinnas ."

Elrohir chuckled, "Did she not know he is bonded to his long-time friend, Beriadon? Did she not realize that is the reason Beriadon is treated like a son of Laeriel, because for all rights his is a son-by-marriage?"

"Apparently such relationships were not so open in the highest circles of Gondolin society, at least not among the females. Or perhaps her own circle does not discuss such things. Either way, she has become good friends with Tholinnas and Beriadon since." Morwen said.

"I must confess I have not spared much thought her way, though she is pleasing and intelligent." Elrohir said.

"You have not spared any female a second thought that is not of a familial concern." Morwen said. "It is to be expected though, and no one should rush you from your mourning. Only you may decide when it is time. For now, the sea is your mistress until you are fit to find an elven one."

They made it to the yard, walking the perimeter before ending near the training grounds. Both twins were quite adept in archery. They both preferred the bows of Greenwood over those their father crafted, not even the ones in the style of Gondolin. Tirnion's skill was seen in their stances and accuracy. Elrohir could only imagine what Legolas would do once he found such worthy pupils.

Letters from Cirdan let it be known that Estel had finally passed from the world and one of these days a ship would wash up on shore bearing the youngest prince of Greenwood the Great. Rumor also had it the dwarf would be with him. Elrohir quite delighted in the idea of Gimli meeting the High Council.

"What are you laughing at?" Morwen asked.

"Our future." Elrohir replied, sitting back and watching as Glorfindel's careful hands guided the next generation of Imladrian archers.


	5. Heart is Home Part 2

_**Disclaimer: See Previous**_

_**Chapter Four, Part Two**_

Despite the knowledge that it was his own idea to have such a gathering and that such an event was needed, Elrohir could not understand why he had to be present for the dinner party. He felt in all his years as a son of the nobility and position as an ambassador he had more than paid his dues in the societal circles of all races. Even dwarves.

Still, whether it was the power of Morwen's glare or his mother's disapproving looks, Elrohir performed his duties admirably well for the night. Dancing with all who asked and answering the expected inquiries about life at sea and his family connections. Very few were absent from the dinner party, though Elrohir noticed both Ecthelion and his sister were missing, as were Elladan and Rian. The Greenwood elves were also missing, understandable due to the amount of work needed to finish the frames of their homes. Still, Morwen had held hope some would make an appearance besides Laeriel, Haldir and his brothers, and the small group that trickled in before dinner.

Finding a free moment, Elrohir leaned against a wall and began to note the location of his family. His parents were gathered in a corner, listening attentively as Erestor debated with some elf of the city. His father kept looking down and raising his glass to his lips, a familiar gesture of trying to hold back his laughter. Elrohir never missed an opportunity to watch his father struggle between his natural reactions and the ones ingrained in him by society. His mother did not bother to hide her smile, relishing in hearing Erestor's distinct tone and manner of setting a person right.  
The elves of Greenwood stood in their own area, some trailing out into the yard. Tholinnas was telling Haldir some grand tale, gesturing his hands around in an excited manner. Laeriel was the only to breach a group of other elves, sitting beside Idril and re-telling the story of Greenwood's elves during the Last Alliance. The matronly elves of the city were quite engaged by her story-telling, lulled into it so that they already appeared more apt to respect the Wood elves. Eluialeth dwelled on the outside of the group, watching the reactions to the story. Their plan was certainly going well. When the mothers, wives, sisters and daughters of the High Councilors could find no fault with the Wood elves, the High Council would find it difficult to promote such disinterest and indifference to their cause.

The children were gathered around Lindir and Gildor, passing around instruments and playing small snippets of songs. The hobbits were also with the group, poor Frodo keeping the sleeping bodies of Sam and Bilbo upright as he sat in the middle between the two. Mithrandir, know in the familiar form of an old man he kept only when around the hobbits, passed by them and pressed a friendly hand on Frodo's shoulder before joining Erestor's debate.

Morwen was locked in a conversation with Glorfindel's mother, Vanima while Glorfindel himself was in talks with his father, Artuo. Elrohir was pulled from watching Morwen try to back out of conversation with Glorfindel's mother when Miluion approached him.

"I have been charged with telling you that your brother and Rian were forced to depart eastward. Apparently Rian's family is ready to receive visitors for the summer season and would not be dissuaded, insisting they must depart at once. Elladan did not seem eager to leave, but Rian was most demanding from what I understand."

"Rian is always demanding," Elrohir murmured, "and Elladan is still rightfully correcting a slight from long ago. Still, I do not know what is worse for my brother, to be stuck here at this dinner party or to be in the house of his in-laws who think him nothing but a pompous child."

"They do know he is not the typical son of a noble, yes?" Miluion asked.

"They are quite aware but have evidence by the words of others. They have not seen what Elladan can and will do when not performing the duties of father or husband. I do not think they can even believe that if you abandoned him to the wild with just a small dagger he would survive."

"They must have felt respect for Elrond if their daughter lived under his home." Miluion said.

"Gildor was the one who brought Rian to my father. Two fosterlings were already under the roof by then, one more was quite welcomed."

Miluion dropped his head, a slight blush staining his cheeks at the mention of his own family history. "I am eternally grateful," he said, "that my sister found such a secure home under your roof."

"And I am certain your sister agrees," Elrohir said, "though to be fair, I think she would have experienced an equally secure childhood and life under Cirdan's care."

"That was one of the issues of debate when my parents discovered they were to have another child," Miluion said, drawing Elrohir's interest to a subject that was still little known, "they did not make a decision until the very end. Even after we sailed, my father wondered if Morwen should have been left with Cirdan. In the end, my father felt Elrond, younger than Cirdan, newlywed, and with children of his own, would be the much better prospect. There were few children in Cirdan's realm at the time and Imladris was blooming with new life."

A murmur went through the crowd as a new couple entered the room. Ecthelion and Minuialeth made quite the sight, their dark hair and eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

"Ah, and so the missing ones finally arrive." Miluion murmured, walking over to the two.

Elrohir stayed back and watched the reactions of people in the room. The siblings were well-known and liked among all the various groups of elves on Aman. They were ambassadors between Elrohir's kind and the elves who had inhabited Aman from the start. Most importantly, they understood the love for Arda inherent in so many of the Third Age elves, elves who had never known another home, elves who had long ago reduced Aman to a fantasy land for the dead. The Undying Lands. The West. A dream world. A paradise removed from the fighting, death, blood, passion, pain and every other beautiful action in the struggle of survival and life.  
They understood the need to go out and discover, the desire to never just stop and accept life as it is, to challenge when it is needed, to fight until the end, to re-emerge again after all is said and done with those lessons still intact.

Elrohir knew the brother better than the sister but he respected both on a level equal to that of Glorfindel. He still sometimes thought Minuialeth a little naïve for one of her lifetimes, but he realized with time that the daughters of the nobility were raised in cages, gilded and honored, but cages nonetheless. Even Arwen, for all she knew, did not know much of the world until the end of the Age. He loved his sister but he could never see her doing what Eowyn had done, riding out to a battle, facing down evil itself, putting aside unrequited love and making the effort to find it elsewhere. Arwen was meant for wars in councils, battles of the mind, fought with words. She was born to be noticed, to stand as a figure-head of hope and beauty, first for the elves and finally for Men. There were exceptions, as there always were, and no one with even a quarter of a mind would deny his grandmothers, both Elwing and Galadriel demanded and deserved respect for their positions and their power.

Minuialeth had, from information Elrohir gleaned, stayed behind her brother's shadow for some time. Being the youngest child, the only daughter, then young Lady of the House of the Fountain had secured her a place free from those who would outwardly scorn her. There seemed to be a change in her following the appearance of Celebrian in Aman. Minuialeth had become more outspoken, more eager to plead the case of elves traveling from Arda to the High Council and the elves in society, willing to help them carve out their new homes in the Undying Lands. She willing served as a bridge between the two populations, an interpreter of speech and manners between the different people. Yet for all her experience defending the elves of Arda, she still understood little about the elves born and raised during the Third Age.

Elrohir knew they needed her aid and that he or Elladan would have to be the one to offer the invitation into their fold. Birthright and family standing still went far in any society and while Morwen may have been married to a high-ranking elf, she did not have a birth status on her side. Elrohir just needed to decide on the proper way. The Gondolin elves were too concerned with ideas of the heart, Miluion was more reserved but just as much of a gossip. Still, Elrohir knew nothing could come from avoiding an inevitable task. He contemplated the liquid in his cup one more time before straightening his spine and preparing to move.

His progress was halted by yet another uproar in the crowd, all eyes quickly move on the new and surprising guest. Elrohir smiled as the elf almost stumbled at the entrance, ducking his head before continuing on. Elrohir raised his cup to the guest, smiling as Tirnion waved in return. Elrohir leaned back against the wall and watched the crowd's reaction to one of the most well-known, gossiped about, and desired Wood elves. Tirnion pushed his way through the crowd, doing his best to move through the large mass of elves with the least amount of contact. He stood taller than most and his silver hair differentiated him even more. Elrohir choked on his drink as he spotted Eluialeth moving behind Tirnion, her own hand clasped in his, her diminutive frame hidden behind his larger one.

Tirnion and Eluialeth met him, both with a relieved air about them. "So many people should not be crammed into one home." Tirnion sighed, pulling Eluialeth out from behind him.

"Even I must agree that this is a larger crowd than anticipated." Eluialeth said as she tugged her hand free from Tirnion's grasp. "I am quite able to walk through a room by myself, you know."

Tirnion smiled down at her, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her pale ear, "I was only protecting you from the fool elves who would look at your height and think you a hobbit."

"And I was not expecting to see either of you for some time." Elrohir said.

"Yes, well, it was believed that if we made some sort of effort to see the elves of Aman than they may extend some courtesy towards us." Tirnion said, nodding at the gathering of Greenwood elves in the corner.

"_Us_ being Greenwood?" Elrohir asked.

"Being all Third Age elves, but the Greenwood elves especially. We cannot expect them to accept us, even on a base level, if we do not try to make more of an effort." Tirnion said.

Elrohir smiled at Eluialeth, "Did you tell him to say that?"

"Only after he hammered off the nail on his right thumb and began cursing the ancestors of the Noldor." Eluialeth said. "The Noldor really are much better at the house-making business."

Tirnion's eyes scanned the crowd, "We are being watched."

Eluialeth rose to the tips of her toes, trying to peer over Tirnion's shoulder and failing in the task. Tirnion laughed and changed positions, subtly moving her neck in the direction of those watching them. Elrohir was delighted to note the slight shiver that passed through Eluialeth's frame as Tirnion's fingers trailed down her neck. He had a good bit of money and household tasks riding on when the two would finally commit.

"Is that not Ecthelion's sister?" Eluialeth asked.

"Yes," Elrohir said, "along with the wife of the High Council's head elf and one of the former High King's queens, can't say I remember which one."

"Are they not your kin?" Tirnion asked.

"Apparently my father's decision to forfeit any claim to the crown left a sour taste in some mouths. Never mind the fact that my father managed to survive longer than any other High King to step on Arda and also managed to successfully negotiate years of peace." Elrohir said.

"Trifles in the eyes of those far too concerned with titles," Eluialeth muttered, "Thárien must love it here."

"I am sure she would if it was not for the fact she's regarded as a wanting outsider. No title, and the daughter of an she-elf who used to be a mistress of Glorfindel, does not go far in this crowd. She might one day achieve something if she marries one of the lesser nobles. Few among our group will accept her for words and insults of the past." Elrohir aid.

"That and the hobbits do not like her." Eluialeth said.

"And really, any elf that Bilbo refuses to recount his stories to is not the kind of elf you want around." Tirnion said.

"And what kind of elf is that?" Minuialeth asked Tirnion, though Elrohir felt her gaze on him.

Tirnion answered, "The kind more concerned with the material than the immaterial. The kind who does not realize that on the battlefield, at the beginning of life and at the end, a title means nothing. The kind who thinks greatness only comes with a proper birth. The kind who does not realize the beauty in the simplistic and the everyday. The kind who would only think of what was lost in the destruction rather than cherish and revel in what survived. The kind who choose to divide rather than unite."

"You sound as if you speak from experience." Minuialeth said.

"My father was a warrior of high regard in Greenwood the Great," Tirnion said, a small smile emerged as Eluialeth gripped his arm, "he was captured by enemies, cut to pieces and sent back to us. Not because he was a warrior. Not because he was of high regard to us. Because he was an elf. Only because he was an elf. To those not of the Greenwood he is nothing, just one name on a long list of dead elves. Among the elves of my first home he is highly revered. Should he be honored because he was killed? Or because he was a warrior? Or because he was a father, husband, brother, son? Does it matter what title he held? Should it not only matter that he was brought down before his time and only because of the fear others hold for the unknown? How much death and sadness we could all avoid if we'd only be willing to see what makes us similar rather than place such importance on what makes us different."

"And is that why you decided to come here tonight?" Minuialeth asked. "Did you realize it would be best to try and make that connection."

"I realized that if I did not begin to make the first step, no one would. Elrohir and Morwen are working hard for all the Third Age elves, but everyone knows it is the Wood Elves that leave the Aman elves wary. We cannot let Morwen, Elrohir and Laeriel fight all our battles. Besides, some view them as traitors for aligning with us. I am a wood elf, the child of two wood elves, raised in a realm of my woodland kin. If they cannot accept me, with all the time I have spent in the realms ruled by Noldor, than they will not accept any of us until they need our aid or have no choice." Tirnion nodded to Minuialeth, "If you will excuse me, Lord Elrond is gesturing me over to his side."

Minuialeth nodded, letting Tirnion pass, and raising a brow when Eluialeth followed him.

"They are quite attached to each other." Minuialeth said to Elrohir.

Elrohir smiled, "I am certain you would not believe how long it has taken them to get this far." He spied Glorfindel breaking for freedom, grabbing a glass and settling against the wall in a sparsely populated corner. "I hope you enjoy your time here, Minuialeth." Elrohir said before leaving her side.

"Can you free Morwen from your mother's grasp?" He asked Glorfindel, smiling as he watched the other elf flinch in surprise.

Glorfindel glared at him for a moment before inquiring, "Why do you ask?"

"I need a moment of escape and from all the infernal elves trying to introducer me to their daughters, nieces, sisters, or friends." Elrohir said. A true lie, as most of his night had been spent in such a manner but now he only wished for a quiet talk with an old friend.

"And my wife will make people stop such things?" Glorfindel asked.

"Whether or not you desire to acknowledge it, Glorfindel, people fear your wife." Elrohir said.

Glorfindel shook his head, "Nonsense. She only has a sharp tongue when truly annoyed."

"You are a good mate and are blind to many of her faults, as are we all. However, I think Morwen's short temper with people more concerned with station and respectability over everything else is one of her most valuable virtues." Elrohir said, smiling as he remembered Tirnion's speech from earlier, no doubt fueled by the influence of a few she-elves.

Glorfindel laughed, reaching out a hand to ruffle Elrohir's hair in a gesture so common and one Elrohir always missed when he was away. "I believe she made a quick escape to her office. Something about if one more elf asked her when Olwen was coming out into society there would be another kin-slaying."

Elrohir looked over the crowd in surprise and found Minuialeth at Vanima's side rather than Morwen. He turned back to Glorfindel and asked, "Only Olwen?"

"The younger elves who seek Gweston are too scared to approach Morwen," Glorfindel shrugged, "I think the old society elves have not yet grasped Gweston. He does not fit into their idea of what the son of a noble birth should be. They seek him for the title alone and are starting to learn there will be no acceptance."

Elrohir shook his head, "And what is Morwen's response to that?"

"He is only half-noble and clearly has the good sense to stay on the right side of things." Glorfindel put his glass down, tugging on the stiff collar of his dress robe. "I must say, after all the years spent in your father's more relaxed company, I happen to agree with Morwen."

"Then why hold such a party?" Elrohir asked, gauging Glorfindel's feelings towards his wife's cause. If this was where some of the discontent lay between the two, Elrohir wanted as much information as he could gather. Erestor had taught him that technique for proper negotiation long ago.

"Appeasement." Glorfindel answered at once. "Morwen believes if she can force some of the most respected elves of Aman into a room with our elves, be they from Greenwood or from Gildor's party, they will come to some sort of agreement. Or at least it will ease the relations between all our different parties. There are many Silvan who still refuse to come off of Tol Eressa, not liking the treatment they receive in the other cities of Aman."

"Do you feel she is correct in this?" Elrohir asked.

"I think if anyone can accomplish such a thing by will alone it will be her," Glorfindel said, pride shinning in his voice. "Our kind need to be accepted and if a dinner party is the way to do that, so be it."

Elrohir was tempted to ask Glorfindel who _his_ kind was but instead said, "I do hope there will be a less formal celebration after this one is over." He tugged on the too tight sleeves of his robe. Working on the ships had restored all the bulk in his arms lost from his time in mourning.

"Would we have anything less in our family?" Glorfindel asked.

Elrohir nodded, eyes catching sight of a group of laughing females headed his way. "I think it is time to make my escape." Elrohir said, slipping behind Glorfindel's tall frame.

"I thought I taught you better evasions skills then to try to hide behind me." Glorfindel murmured.

"I am doing this in the vague hope they will go for you." Elrohir said.

"Of course they won't," Eluialeth said as she pulled a loose thread off of her sleeve and joined their group, "they are too afraid of Morwen to dare try and flirt with her husband."

Elrohir's jaw dropped, if only for a moment, recalling such stories as this before. "Just how many people did Morwen yell at when she was pregnant?"

"I do not believe any save Tirnion escaped her wrath," Glorfindel murmured, a fake smile spreading across his face as he turned to the approaching females, "now go make sure my wife is not fastening daggers out of her quills."

"Again." Eluialeth muttered, not bothering to hide her own disdain for the society she-elves.

* * *

The door to Morwen's office was cracked open, candlelight spilling out onto the stone floor. The office was always a sight to take in, papers and books stacked everywhere. Drawings from elflings' hands held equal space with the most professional art pieces. Gifts from courtiers eager to have a peek into the dealings of the Arda elves were stacked in a corner, most still left in their wrappings and waiting to be given to the less fortunate elves. A window seat was devoted to Gweston's musical pursuits while an overstuffed chair by the fire was Glorfindel's domain. Olwen was found in the lavender ribbons throughout the room and the daggers embedded in the wall around the throwing board. Even Eluialeth and Tirnion held a presence here, small desks holding an array of their personal tools. Elrohir too had a desk, knowing this home to be his sanctuary when he needed to escape from his family.

It was odd, being home, where everyone had a partner but him. While his parents and brother only wanted the best for him, he had no desire to fall into another discussion about when he would be ready. At Glorfindel's house, among its permanent residents, no talk of such matters came up and since the still un-wed Ecthelion often occupied the guest quarters, Elrohir found it easier to be under this roof.

"It would be easier for you to hide if you actually entered the room." Morwen said, glancing up from the papers on her desk.

Elrohir entered the room. "But I like standing in the dark and staring at you while you work. You get this lovely line between your brows when you are being watched."

"And again I state the sea water has idled your brains."

"What little I had to begin with, I am sure." Elrohir said.

"Quite." Morwen agreed.

"It was a good voyage. I received good news in the night."

Morwen looked up at him and asked, "Did you have your dream again? The one with the children?"

Elrohir smiled, ah yes, the dream. Two light-haired elfling girls dancing by the firelight with faceless parents guiding them. It was a lovely dream even more so now that he knew the truth. "I did. I know they are not mine now."

"And whose are they," Morwen held up a hand, "if you daresay they are mine I will be forced to smack you. I do not think anyone could survive a second pregnancy from me."

"I would like to witness it, though, since I still hear the stories from that time." Elrohir smiled. "No, it was not you, but rather my siblings."

"Siblings?" Morwen asked, voice cracking with surprise. "Your parents are to have more children?"

"I too did not believe it at first, and I do not think they have even considered it yet, but it was quite clear in this dream." Elrohir said.

Morwen sat down in her chair, a hand over her mouth, silver wedding band twinkling in the candle light. "Are you certain?" she asked.

"Positive." Elrohir sat on her desk, twirling one of her quills between his fingers.

"You know it to be true, you can feel it?"

"As much as I feel annoyance for those who try to make me a match and as much as I knew my mate will only be found here." Elrohir said. "I do not know when it will happen, I never know when any of it will happen, but I know it to be true."

"I believe you," Morwen said, "I am shocked, but I do not doubt your intuition."

"You only have once." Elrohir said.

"Yes, and what a lovely experience that was." Morwen shuddered and pressed a hand to her shoulder, "If I am never that close to death again it will be too soon."

"For all of us." Elrohir agreed. It was a night of terror and of change, the night of Morwen and Eluialeth's attack inside Imladris. Inside their very home, their own rooms. They never were able to prove that Curunir was the force behind the attack, but Elrohir knew it was him. "Tirnion is here," he said in an attempt to move beyond those dark memories.

"I saw," Morwen said. She stood, pushing past Elrohir with a friendly tap on his head and going to the silver keepsake box on the bookshelf. It was high-up so the children could not reach it. Elrohir always wondered what Morwen kept in there. She walked back to the desk, skirts scratching against the floor with a leather satchel clutched in her hands. "I," Morwen looked down for a moment, fingers pressed against the leather. "I was charged with delivering this letter to your father when I felt the time was right," Morwen laughed, "rather, when I knew the time was right."

"This is the last letter of my mother's isn't it?" Elrohir asked, fingers tracing against the outside of the satchel. "The last one she gave you before she departed."

"Yes," Morwen said, "and I never felt the time was right before now. Even now I have my doubts. I have kept this with me, even after we arrived here. Your mother has said nothing about it, I do not know if she even remembers it."

"Do you know what it says?" Elrohir asked, wondering at the words his mother left his father when she had lost all chance to find peace on Arda."

"I do not know the exact words but I was informed of its meaning." Morwen said. "It is about telling your father to live again, to find another family if he stayed on Arda. To have more children even if you, your brother, and your sister were lost. To move on."

"To live," Elrohir said. "You must give it to him tonight, after all the guests have left. When it is our informal gathering."

"Tonight, are you sure?"

Elrohir raised a brow, "Are you?"

Morwen laughed, tapping Elrohir on the head as she walked towards the door. "Come, Elrohir," she said, "we must re-appear before the rumors start again."

* * *

Elrohir sat on a blanket, the sweet smell of a summer night all around him. His family was sprawled over the grounds. Everyone was relaxed, most having changed into their normal clothing for the night. Elrohir laughed as Glorfindel, dressed in his worn sparring tunic and breeches, twirled Eluialeth around in a spirited dance. Ecthelion, having discarded the ostentatious outer-tunic of his outfit long ago, sat next to Lindir as they both played a fast-paced jig. It was good to see this, everyone as they should be, with pretense and the tension of formality abandoned for comfort.

His father and mother held court under one of the trees, a gaggle of children and hobbits around them as his father finished a familiar story of old. Elrohir even spotted an ancient elf or two on the outskirts, eager to listen to the legendary story-telling of Elrond Half-elven. A round of applause was heard for both the musicians and the story-teller. A reel began to play and the children ran towards the make-shift dirt dance floor as Glorfindel pressed Eluialeth into Tirnion's arms and went to pick up the flute Ecthelion held out to him.

Elrohir watched as Morwen approached his father, his court of young admirers now clamoring for Miluion to show them how to make music with the heels of their hard shoes. Olwen was hanging on to Morwen's arm skating along for a ride while Gweston leaned over her shoulder, singing some childhood, song about sunshine, moonlight and cows. It should have been comical, and would have, if it wasn't for the fact that Morwen handled the situation with the same grace and dignity of any negotiation. From the pouch hanging around her shoulders she produced a letter, similar to the one Elrohir had carried with him since his father placed it in his hands all those years ago. The letter from earlier tonight, freed from its leather bindings. Words no longer to be sealed and hidden away. Elrohir sat forward, his loose hair swirling in the night breeze. He smiled as his mother gasped, recognizing the correspondence.

"It is time." Morwen stated to them both before turning around and pushing her children towards the stage. Gweston ran to join the informal band, pushing Ecthelion up and taking his place. Olwen pulled Ecthelion out to the other dancers, laughing at his protests and spinning around him.

Elrohir turned back to his parents. He watched as his father held tight to his mother's hands. Pressing kisses into her hair as tears began to leak from her eyes and his. No sadness in their faces, only relief and joy.

Elrohir's eyes were caught by the lone figure off by the riverbank and wondered why said person felt a need to separate herself from the crowd. Minuialeth seemed lost, off and in her own world, and being a fellow member of such a practice, Elrohir figured he'd leave her for a bit.

"Elrohir, come dance!"

He turned his head to the voice of his mother and jumped up at her command. His parents were laughing at his quick actions but both held their hands out to him. He eagerly followed, pulled into the crowd of family and friends.

* * *

Minuialeth stood on the riverbanks, the hem of her skirts twisting in the water of the shoreline, seeping into the fabric. She could hear the revelry in the background, smiling at the sounds of joy. These elves felt with such passion and were determined to share it with the world. They donned the masks of propriety in the mixed crowds of elves from Aman but when it was just them, just their oddly-constructed family, they were so honest and feeling. It was almost too much to watch. There was always a sense of reserve in Gondolin, even among the mischief and the laughter. These elves, most from the Second and Third Ages, all born and raised on Arda, refused such reserve. Rejected it. They sang into the night, danced into the day, showed deep emotion. They seemed incapable of doing things on their own, where one was another was already with them or soon to follow. She well understood all the tales about their intimidating manner now. She could never imagine standing against any of them in a debate, and she had glared down Glorfindel, Ecthelion and a High King often in both her lives. These elves, however, were still a mystery to her. Especially Elrond's youngest who seemed bound and determined to flaunt his interesting heritage and embrace the wanderlust of the Noldor.

"Why is my sister standing alone at the water side when there is a perfectly good gathering over by the house?" Ecthelion asked.

She jumped, latching on to her brother's steadying hand. "I have told you not to do that."

"One day you will learn to not be so lost in your mind that you forget all about you." Ecthelion slung an arm around her shoulder and turned her back to the party.

"Why do you think he sails?" Minuialeth asked as he gestured at Elrohir who was dancing with Olwen.

"I think these younger elves have an urge to wander that cannot be denied while they try to live here. They all have a desire to change our world." Ecthelion said. "I find myself more and more eager to follow their plans."

"Perhaps they are correct in doing so, justified at the least. Our ways are quite different from theirs and they seem to prosper in longer periods of peace." Minuialeth said.

"You will support them then?" Ecthelion asked, pulling her into the dance.

Minuialeth looked over at Elrohir, twirling the young Olwen around and yelling praise over to Gweston and his playing. Pride shone on his face as he watched the children make their own way among the crowd. Despite his ruffian appearance, he was caring and gentle with the elflings, much like Glorfindel had been and still was.

"You know," Minuialeth said as she tugged on her brother's hair, "I think I shall."

* * *

_**Epilogue:**_

Elrohir batted Morwen's hands away as she again tried to force the proper braids into his hair.

"Away, demon she-elf!" Elrohir called. "I am to sail in the morning."

"All the more reason to have your hair pulled back in a decent set of braids." Morwen argued from the porch of Ornu's home.

"Elrohir, are you threatening my wife?" Glorfindel called down from the window-seat of the top floor of the house. "I do not think you want me to come down there and separate you two."

"I am not an elfling." Elrohir said.

"Then stop pouting like one!" Galdor called from inside the house. "Honestly, Elrohir, there was a time when you demanded Morwen braid your hair."

"That was before he became a gruff sailor and could not stand the teasing from his fellow crew-mates at needing a she-elf to do his hair." Ornu said, joining in on the teasing.

"I am perfectly capable of braiding it on my own." Elrohir said. "The last time I let _her_," Elrohir pointed an accusing finger at Morwen, "do the braids before I sailed they showed me as an expectant father."

"Perfect revenge for leaving me alone to entertain Laeriel's mother." Morwen said before turning back into the house, hands up in the air.

"Elrohir, come down here and help me construct this kite." Elladan yelled from the shore.

"Who do you torture while I am gone?" Elrohir asked to the winds and everyone gathered around.

"We offer Ecthelion up for the sacrifice most of the time." Minuialeth said as she joined Elrohir on his walk to the shore.

Elrohir flinched and asked, "Where did you come from and how did you do that?"

Minuialeth raised a brow, "My brother has taught me well, I see. It is a great lesson in our family to be as silent as possible in all actions."

"Where's the fun in that?" Elrohir murmured as they walked towards his brother.

Minuialeth studied him for a moment, brow wrinkled in thought, inspecting him for something or other.

Elrohir felt his hair to see if Morwen had done something mischievous again, but his hair was falling loose. Minuialeth was still studying him and so Elrohir asked, "Is there something on my face?"

"No, I just," Minuialeth paused, "I sometimes forget there is mortal blood in your line. I am not used to seeing elves with beards."

Elrohir scratched the hair on his face, "It is not so much a beard as a protection against the salt and wind of the sea. Older elves than I have heartier beards."

"Tuor grows one every few months but Idril inevitable holds him down and shaves it off." Minuialeth tied her hair back, stopping the wind from blowing it in her face. "You have no idea how difficult it is for me to see Tuor's great-grandson in front of me, following in the family path of taking to the sea."

Elrohir ducked his head, a smile spreading across his face, and said, "Glorfindel has said similar things throughout my life. I can imagine how difficult it must be for you, but imagine poor Glorfindel."

"Yes, he is destined to live among the generations of Tuor's descendants." Minuialeth smiled. "That is a good thing and Tuor's best revenge for all Glorfindel and Ecthelion put him through when he arrived in Gondolin."

"I have heard stories of the initiation rituals." Elrohir said.

"You have not heard half of them, I assure you." Minuialeth said. She reached out a hand and tugged on his sleeve, marveling in the difference of color from his tan hand to his bare wrist. "Does your mortal blood make you tan also?"

Elrohir laughed, "No, that would be the sun. Granted, my exposure is longer than most, but all elves will tan given the time. Except maybe the Lothlorien elves."

"Why would Lorien's elves not tan?" Minuialeth asked.

"Um," Elrohir paused, remembering he was not in the company of an Arda elf, "my Lothlorien, the one on Arda. Caras Galadhon. The elves, the wood elves there, they revel in the moonlight."

"You make a clear distinction from them." Minuialeth observed. "I thought your friend Tirnion holds belief in uniting over dividing? Do you hold yourself a part from them?"

"Only when I am among them," Elrohir answered, "you have to understand that there were clear distinctions between the realms on Arda. While I was the grandchild of the rulers of Lothlorien, I was still the child of the Noldor, raised among a majority of Noldor."

"And other races if I am to understand the position Imladris held on Arda." Minuialeth said, pausing as she watched Elladan wrestle with the kite strings.

"It was a sanctuary for all with good intentions in their hearts and for any needing aid." Elrohir said, shaking his head as Elladan walked off in a huff, kite string entangled with his hair.

"It sounds extraordinary." Minuialeth said, a hand over her mouth to cover her smile.

"It was." Elrohir's eyes turned to the eastern horizon. "I miss its presence and its strength."

"Is that why your people are working so hard to build another version here? Separating themselves from the rest of us in order to live under your own rules?" Minuialeth asked.

"We do not do it as an attack on your ways but rather to show that we are different. We may be your descendants, Minuialeth, but we are not you. We will not have the Silvan feel like inferior outcasts, not after all they have fought and suffered. The same for the Ring-bearers who saved us all from a most terrible fate. They deserve respect and acceptance, not scorn." Elrohir said.

Minuialeth nodded at his words. She paced the shore before turning to him again, "If the Silvan are so important to you, then why do you not help in the building of their realm?"

"Because Greenwood's Legacy is something the Silvan must build and must do so on their own. Thranduil's will kept them alive through more darkness than you can imagine," Elrohir held up a hand at her protest, "yes, even you when your city fell around you. His people must build this home for him, on their own, for it is the only way they know how to show their gratitude."

"Oropher could rule." Minuialeth said.

Elrohir shook his head in the negative, "No one would accept it. Believe me, they loved Oropher for his memory, but they adore and respect Thranduil and Thranduil ruled longer than Oropher by over an Age. He could have, by all rights, left them long ago and sailed. But he stayed, and is still there, making certain that his son Berenon will keep the wood strong for those who remain."

"I am eager to meet this ruler then, if he has such respect from you." Minuialeth said.

"Not just me," Elrohir answered. "Thranduil is a unique and powerful character. Full of pride, but not without compassion. He is a passionate elf, but loyal and strong and not one to suffer fools lightly. Laeriel will be overjoyed to have her husband back and the gossip mills of Aman will love to see what she says to her mother this time."

"Are your people prone to scandal?" Minuialeth asked.

Elrohir smirked, "You lived with Glorfindel for centuries, what do you think?"

Minuialeth threw her head back and laughed, long and low, the wind tossing her hair. "I think it is time for me to embrace the change you and your family are brining to our world."

"Does that mean you will put in a good word for us at the next High Council of Tirion?" Elrohir asked.

Minuialeth nodded. "I was going to do it on Glorfindel's recommendation alone, knowing your mother will be more concerned with re-learning the ways of her husband. But you, Elrohir, your words and the look on the face when you describe what was your home, that makes me want to believe in what you and Morwen are planning. I greatly want to see the sanctuary you all intend to create. It will only be a few Ages until the elves feel the pull towards Arda again, and with the knowledge you have and the lessons you can teach, we can make certain they are more prepared this time."

"Good," Elrohir smiled, running a hand through his hair, "that's very good for all of us." He looked to the sand dunes where the laughter of young elves was heard as sand kicked up into the air.

"Uncle Elrohir!" Olwen yelled down, having renounced all sense of propriety when she realized how scandalous people viewed her mother and father's relationship. Morwen had taught her daughter to speak her mind and Glorfindel had never learned to deny his daughter anything.

"Olwen, the sea creatures can hear you with that voice." Elrohir said.

Olwen slid down the bank, coming to stand between Elrohir and Minuialeth. She was already as tall as her mother and towered over Eluialeth. It was certain she would be a very desirable match once she had a public majority ceremony. If, of course, Glorfindel ever allowed such an event to occur. Not even Elrohir, who viewed her as a daughter and nothing more, could deny the beauty inherited from her father and the spirit from her mother. It made for a heady combination and Elrohir almost felt bad for Ecthelion, knowing that Olwen, much like her mother, would get what she wanted.

"Uncle Elrohir, do not bother to protect that imp!" Gweston bellowed, racing after his sister and sprinting through the sand with little trouble.

"If you will excuse me, Minuialeth," Elrohir addressed his companion, "I must keep the twins from killing each other."

Minuialeth smiled, watching as Gweston chased Olwen down the beach. Olwen was waving Gweston's favorite flute in the air and taunting his inability to keep up with her.

"I can see why you spend so much time at sea, away from all this commotion." Minuialeth said.

"Oh no, Minuialeth," Elrohir said. Nordithen and Tithenauriel had now joined the group. "These are the things that bring me back." Elrohir laughed as Ionaur jumped on his back. He nodded at Minuialeth before holding Ionaur to him and taking off on a run.

He had not seen nights like this in all of his visions and dreams of the future and perhaps that is what made them all the more precious. Elrohir could feel life all around him and reveled in it, laughing as the elflings chased him down. He met Minuialeth eyes as she watched them. He whispered to Ionaur and lowered him to the ground. Ionaur smiled up at him before running towards Minuialeth and bringing her into their little game. Perhaps Elrohir and his family were not meant only to bring the Silvan into everyone's fold but to remind the older elves of Aman what it means to live and, in turn, to remind each other of the same.

The End.

* * *

Sorry it took so long! Thanks for reading! As always story updates and other arc-related stories go on the writing lj and the website first. Check it out if you want some extra stories in this verse. 


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